


Magic Lessons

by Jinnamorata



Category: Original Work
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4366643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinnamorata/pseuds/Jinnamorata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of sword and sorcery, Arum Errarin is a hurt and troubled teenage boy.  Raised by an evil wizard, he is trying to find acceptance in the mainstream wizard community.  While all does not go smoothly, he does at least have an ally in Archmage Eldris Redigild, who wants to give him the love and care he has always needed--including appropriate discipline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seaholly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaholly/gifts).



> This story includes scenes of spanking/corporal punishment of adolescents. It's not in every chapter, but the theme is prevalent. If this upsets you, then you probably want to skip this one. And just as a PSA, no, I don't approve of striking actual children. IRL, keep it adult and consensual. :)

            “Arum . . . Arum!  It’s all right.  He’s dead.”

            Those words punctured Arum Errarin’s delirium, and they set off cold ripples of dread.  _Dead?  Who was dead?_

            His cracked lips croaked out: “Master Vok . . . ?”  The sixteen-year-old boy stirred and then suddenly his eyes opened.  There was another boy, about his own age, leaning over him.  The boy was very fair, almost tow-headed, and he had a dusting of small brown freckles over his face.  He wore a novice wizard’s gray robe.  Arum himself was a dusky boy, with curly hair and a shield-shaped face, but with startling light-gray eyes.  As he came to himself, he was aware of stiff swaths of linen bandages over his torso and left arm.  Underneath, the flesh stung as if burned. 

            The two boys were alone in a strange, cool stone room, in shadow except for a shaft of daylight that came down from a high, narrow window.  Disoriented, Arum asked, “Am I in prison?”

            The fair boy laughed.  “Of course you’re not!  This is Galeddin.”

            At the name of the Wizards’ City, Arum’s eyes went wide.  “How did I get here?” he asked.

            “The Master Wizards brought you, after they sacked Issmoroth’s stronghold,” the boy said. 

            Vok Issmoroth was Arum’s Master.  Or had been.  Had the other boy said someone was dead . . . ? 

            “Master Vok is . . . ?” he asked, fearfully.

            “Don’t you remember anything?” asked the boy.  “You got him!  We won!  You gave the Archmage the information he needed to prove that Issmoroth had broken his vows, and then the Masters came and put him down once and for all.  They roasted him in his own juices!” 

            Arum turned his face away.  Now he started to remember.  He had sent information to that Archmage, Eldris Redigild, about the evil magics that Master Vok had performed, and had forced Arum to perform.  Although Arum had loved Vok, he couldn’t live with himself anymore if he continued down that path.  It needed to stop.  And apparently, Arum had stopped it.

            But “roasted in his own juices?”  Tears flooded Arum’s eyes, and when he blinked, they fell.  Vok had been the closest thing Arum had ever had to a father. 

            “Oh!  Sorry!  I’m sorry . . . I’m supposed to be up here getting you water,” the boy said.  “I forgot!  No wonder you’re crying.  We’ve had the worst time getting anything into you for days. I’m Ban, by the way.” 

            Arum nodded, still not looking away from the rough gray stone wall that his bed was pushed up against.  “Thank you, Ban,” he said, although at the moment he didn’t feel very thankful.  He had wanted the Master Wizards to stop the terrible things that Vok had been doing.  He hadn’t wanted them to kill the old man!

            Ban gently lifted up Arum’s head and shoulders and tipped a wooden bowl full of water to his lips.  It was cold and very good.  Arum drank greedily, and Ban poured him another bowlful from a vessel that was out of sight on the floor.  Arum drank that, too.

            “I don’t know if I should give you any more right now,” Ban said doubtfully.  “I’ll have to ask Mistress Reinne if it’ll be good for you.”

            Arum nodded, and shut his eyes.  Then a woman who sounded as if she might be standing down a flight of stone steps shouted out: “Banomor!” and Ban jumped.

            “That’s Mistress Reinne.  If I don’t come quick she’ll tan my hide.  I’ll be back later!” and then Ban grabbed his things and left. 

            Arum opened his eyes again and stared at the wooden staves of the ceiling.  So.  Master Vok was dead.  He remembered it now . . . sneaking a fragment of mirror into the ritual room where Vok had sacrificed his victims, the polished silver enchanted with the power to observe and record what happened there.  Then he had caught a pigeon and witched it to think that Eldris Redigild represented its home—no mean feat, since Arum had never seen the man.  He’d bound the mirror fragment in a linen pouch around the bird’s foot, and let it fly. 

            It hadn’t taken Vok long to realize that his student was hiding something from him.  Arum never could successfully lie to the man.  The resulting fight was far from fair.  Arum was only a boy, and worse, he could not emotionally bear to strike against his master in any meaningful way.  All he could do was fight a long battle of attrition, in which he simply defended himself until unconsciousness took him.  Apparently, Vok had left him for dead in the deeply-buried workroom where they’d fought.  How the Archmage and the Master Wizards had found him and rescued him he had no idea. 

            Strangely, Arum found himself not thinking about the innocent people who’d died at Vok’s hands, but instead of the gentle way the evil wizard had looked after him when he was sick or injured.  He was no longer quite so much a child as to believe that there had been real love on Vok’s part, but he knew his own love had been devastatingly real.  He cried bitterly, missing the man who had once bathed his wounds and dried his tears. 

            At length, he slept again. 

            When Ban returned the light from the window above had turned faint and rosy.  The gods only knew if it were sunset or sunrise.  Ben brought more water, as well as a thin gruel with wine and currants, which he spooned into Arum’s mouth.  Arum was feeling listless, but Ban was filled with joyous excitement.  “My master’s awake!” he cried.  “That is, the Archmage.  They say he’ll live.” 

            Arum hadn’t been aware that the Archmage’s life had been despaired of, but he was happy for Ban.  If only he hadn’t ached for his own master so much! 

            “He’s the one who rescued you,” Ban continued.  “When they found you in that pit, Master Eldris wouldn’t leave you, saying that you were the reason that they’d been able to move against Issmoroth.  He carried you out of there himself, you know, even with the wounds he had.”

            Ban’s last words carried a certain tone of reproof.  Arum looked up at him and said, “I’m sorry your master was hurt.”  He truly was.  He didn’t want to think of another boy feeling the deep sense of loss he felt, and he couldn’t blame Ban for finding fault with him regarding his master’s injuries. 

            “I’m sorry he was hurt too,” Ban said, although the censure in his voice had faded.

            Over the next couple of days, Ban and other young people came in to care for Arum, and he slowly felt himself getting his strength back.  He even met the formidable Mistress Reinne, who forbade him from getting up except to take care of necessities, on pain of having his knuckles rapped.  She touched his forehead and examined his eyes and tongue, and then said with some satisfaction that he was progressing well. 

            As Arum began to improve, he picked a small stone out of the wall, and began scratching pictures into the lumps and crevices of the undressed rock.  He found rabbit shapes in the wall, and mermaid shapes, and the shape of a half-melted maiden setting fire to a salamander.  Then when he’d outlined all of these, he moved to the floor, using his freed stone to score flame shapes, and animal shapes, and the shapes of numerous eyes deep into the wood.  He was a very talented artist, and his sketches looked true to life. 

            None of this impressed Mistress Reinne, who shouted for a maidservant to bring her a switch when she caught Arum out of bed and sketching on the floor.  In the end, all Reinne did was make the switch cut a _whoosh_ sound through the air a few times as she warned Arum she’d warm his bottom the next time he tried something like that.  She left him understanding that in no uncertain terms was he to get out of bed for anything other than the chamber pot, and that his room was to remain un-illustrated. 

            Eventually, the boy began to feel well enough to feel bored.  He didn’t dare draw on the walls anymore, and with Mistress Reinne in charge he didn’t dare leave his bed.  So he tossed and turned and fidgeted, and sincerely wished he was elsewhere. 

            One day, the Archmage visited him.  Eldris Redigild turned out to be a compactly-built man with long dark hair that was silvering at the temples.  His eyes were very dark, and as he limped into Arum’s chamber, they were concerned.  Once he saw that Arum was awake and alert, he smiled.  “Arum!” he cried, and shooed off the novice girl who had obviously been sent to make sure the injured Archamge made it to Arum’s room in once piece. 

            He painfully drew over the room’s lone chair, and settled himself into it.  He reached out and brushed Arum’s face with the backs of his fingers.  “I’m so glad you’re getting well,” he said.

            This was the first real tenderness Arum had experienced in . . . well, Vok had counterfeited being tender with him.  If that wasn’t counted, when was the last time?  Arum was dismally unsure.  His parents had feared what they didn’t understand, and had beaten him until he knew to lie about his growing magical powers.  He knew there had to have been a time before that, when they must have loved him, but he couldn’t remember very well. 

            Arum met Eldris’ gaze and held it, puzzled.  Was this man implying that he cared for him?  Could that even be possible?

            “Thank you, sir,” was all Arum had to say.

            “I see you’ve been busy,” Eldris said, giving a smile as he gestured to the drawings all over the walls and floor.  “You’re very good.”

            Arum couldn’t help but give a bashful grin.  Vok had appreciated his drawings as illustrations for their notes, when they performed Vok’s perverse experiments, but Arum couldn’t remember anyone else really liking his drawing as art before.  His parents certainly hadn’t appreciated it when he’d scratched images on their walls and floor.  “Thank you, sir,” he said again. 

            Eldris looked at him with a warmth that puzzled him, and then said, “Do you have any idea what the world owes to you?” he said.  “The Masters had suspected for decades that Issmoroth was using his powers for evil, but we could never prove it.  Not before you sent me that mirror shard.” 

            Arum looked up at the ceiling, not knowing how to respond.  He had betrayed Vok.  Betrayed the man who took him away from the village that shunned him.  Yes, it had been necessary, but was he also expected to be celebratory about it? 

            There was a long, awkward silence, in which the only sounds were Arum’s and Eldris’ breathing, and the occasional shout or animal cry from outside.  “I see,” Eldris finally said, very gently.  “You loved him.”

            Arum flung himself over onto his other side, so that he faced the wall, despite the fact that he was still bandaged and burned on his right.  He absolutely forbade himself to weep, but he did it anyway.  “Leave me alone!” he cried. 

            “No,” Eldris said just as gently.  “No, you don’t need to be alone.  You need someone to stay with you, whether it’s me or someone else.” 

            Arum shook his head violently, but couldn’t stop crying.  Eldris put his hand upon his shoulder, and rubbed his upper arm.  “I’m sorry, my son.  I’m so very sorry.” 

            Eventually, Arum quieted, and he lay sniffling.  Eldris produced a handkerchief from somewhere, and held it over the boy’s shoulder so that he could see it.  Arum accepted it and used it to clean himself up.  “I’m sorry, sir,” he said at last.

            “There’s no need to be sorry,” Eldris said.  “You had to make a terrible choice.  I certainly don’t envy you.  But I think that in time, you’ll see you made the right one.” 

            Arum gave a long exhale, and said a bit shakily, “I hope you’re right, sir.”  


	2. Chapter 2

            Eventually, Mistress Reinne allowed Arum out of bed, and he was permitted to walk in the garden of the Healers’ House.  He’d been given a new gray novice’s robe to wear, even though he was fairly sure that he’d count as a junior mage, and not a novice, by that point.  Underneath he had on a somewhat-patched linen shirt, a pair of breeches, and stockings.  From somewhere, the Healers had even gotten him shoes, although they pinched in places. 

            He soon discovered that the stone room in which he’d awakened was only the oldest wing of the building.  Opening off it was a U-shaped timber-frame construction, which encircled a rectangular court in the center.  The court was the place where the Master Healers grew their medicinal herbs. 

            The garden smelled green and spicy as Arum wandered through it.  It was almost a secluded little paradise, but for the sounds of the city of Galeddin coming in from over the walls.  Now and then Arum heard the thunder of iron-shod dray wheels jouncing over the cobbles, and the cries of wandering vendors.  It was strange to think that densely-packed civilization was so close to the sweet greenness of the garden. 

            Arum knew cities, or at least he knew a city.  He knew Mormoros, the city nearest to Master Vok’s stronghold.  That was where he’d been sent to do things like steal stockings from the clotheslines, so Vok could use them to bewitch the stockings’ owners.  People who opposed Vok died, but not in obvious ways.  They fell down steps, or were thrown from horses.  One man had been shot by his own son, in mistake for a deer while they were hunting.  Everyone knew that Vok had comprehensively broken his vows never to harm another human being by means of magic, but the question was proving it.  The man was powerful, not only in magic, but in wealth, and in connections.  He was from a noble family.  There had been many who had staunchly refused to believe that he was capable of doing what people whispered of him.

            But Arum knew that the man was capable.  Capable of doing what the braver—or more stupid-- sort of person claimed out loud he did, and much, much more. 

            His grim reverie was broken when he spied a fat, green caterpillar with amazing yellow spots inching its way down a stalk of sweet-smelling holy basil.  He held out one finger to see if it would climb onto him, and after a moment’s bumbling indecision, it did.  He held the little creature up near his face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled.  Surely, the world couldn’t be so bad if there were still friendly green-and-yellow caterpillars in it?

            He sat down on a stone bench and allowed the little thing to creep over his hand, finger by finger, and then when it looked about to fall, he brought up his other hand to catch it.  He was so engrossed in his play that he didn’t hear footsteps coming up behind him. 

            When the girl spoke, Arum nearly jumped out of his skin: “Well.  You’re up.”

            He turned around, and found a young woman perhaps a couple of years older than himself standing there.  Her gray robe was trimmed in black around the bottom and the ends of her sleeves, meaning she was of junior rank.  She was a lovely girl with dark hair swept up into combs, and cold green eyes.  She did not look pleased to see him. 

            “I hear it being bandied about these days that you’re a hero,” she said.  Even without the aristocratic chill in her tones, she would have sounded sarcastic. 

            Arum’s own natural accent was that of a peasant of northern extraction, although most of that had been whipped out of him by Vok.  He did his best to manage the “polite” pronunciations the evil wizard had taught him as he answered, “I’m not any kind of hero.”

            “You certainly aren’t,” the girl said icily.  “I don’t suppose the name ‘Haylser’ means anything to you?”

            It did.  The noble Haylser family had been rivals of Vok’s own relatives for generations, and he had personally seen several of their members into their graves.  “It does,” Arum admitted quietly.  “But you have to believe--”

            “I have to believe nothing,” the girl snapped.  “Your master was evil to the core, and you helped him.  Do you remember Ruce Haylser?  A young man arrested and ruined for a theft he didn’t commit?”

            When Vok had planted evidence against Ruce Haylser, Arum had been eleven years old, but he hadn’t forgotten.  “Yes,” he said softly. 

            “My cousin.  He committed suicide the next year,” the young woman said.

            Arum nodded.  He wanted to gaze down at his shoes, but he knew his accuser was in the right, and he felt she deserved to look him in the eye.  “I know,” he said. 

            “I suppose you want to tell me you’re sorry now,” she said.  The winds of winter weren’t any colder than her voice.

            “I wish there was something better I could say to you,” Arum said.  “The things I did when I served Master Vok were evil.  I knew they were evil, and yes, I am sorry.” 

            Her face looked as if it had been carved in lovely stone—all rose quartz and alabaster.  “We have to accept you here.  The Archmage commands it,” she said.  Then she lowered her voice: “But don’t expect any forgiveness.  Not from me, or from others.”  With that, she turned and strode away. 

            Arum was left alone looking down at his caterpillar, feeling isolated and ashamed.  He should have known that nothing here could be different.  He’d been a pariah in his home village, and he’d been Master Vok’s scapegoat when things went wrong.  The people of Mormoros had certainly feared and hated him, and deservedly so, he thought wretchedly.  He gently placed the caterpillar back where he’d found it, and decided to go back to his room.  He didn’t really want to go back to bed and stare at the ceiling, but it seemed better than waiting in the garden for someone else to verbally eviscerate him. 

            As he was walking back to the door that led into the stone wing, however, someone called his name.  He turned around, and saw Eldris slowly walking up the garden path, with Ban by his side.  The Archmage seemed to be struggling with the physical activity a little, and Ban looked concerned, but Eldris’ face lit up with a smile as soon as he saw Arum.

            “I’m so glad to see you up and around!” Eldris called.  Arum walked over to him rather than make the injured man come any farther toward him. 

            “Thank you, sir,” the boy said. 

            Eldris waved the courtesy away.  “It doesn’t have to be ‘sir’.  I’m not a man who stands on ceremony.”

            “I only have to call him ‘sir’ when I’m in trouble,” Ban said.  Arum caught the worshipful look that Ban gave his master, and suspected that the other boy wasn’t in trouble often.  Arum knew what it was like to love an adult authority enough that you desperately wanted to be good, in order to make that adult proud.  He’d felt that way toward his parents, especially his mother, and then for Vok.  He envied Ban a little in that the other boy had someone to be good for. 

            “Well . . . thank you Master Eldris, then,” Arum said, without the “sir.”  It felt odd not to use it.  Vok had always been “sir” to him. 

            “Come and sit down,” Eldris said, “Ban has been giving me a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t be on my feet yet, and I’m beginning to suspect he may be right.”  It was true that the Archmage looked a bit tired and pale, despite his cheerful expression. 

            Eldris led the way to yet another stone bench, where he sat down, and he motioned for Arum to sit next to him.  Ban sat on the grassy ground without complaint.  “How have you been feeling?” Eldris asked.  “Have the burns been giving you much pain?”

            Arum’s arm still bore some bandages, under his robe and shirt sleeves, but the windings around his chest had been removed.  “It’s better,” he said.  “I haven’t needed a draught of poppy in a couple of days now.”

            “That’s wonderful,” Eldris said.  “I’m so glad you’re really starting to heal.”

            Arum nodded, and then after a moment of hesitation, asked, “Sir—I mean, Master Eldris—do you know a girl from the Haylser family?” 

            “Oh, you haven’t met _her_ , have you?” asked Ban, making a face. 

            Eldris raised an eyebrow at him, and he fell quiet.  “That would be Dannica,” he said. “She’s Mistress Reinne’s apprentice.” 

            “Oh,” Arum said, wondering how his doctor was handling the intense dislike for him that her student felt. 

            “Has she given you trouble?” Eldris asked.

            Arum got the idea that possibly, all would not go well with Dannica if he said “yes.”  It didn’t seem to be fair to get her into trouble over her understandable feelings, so he said, “No, not at all.  She was just . . . curious about meeting me.  I guess she’d heard a lot about me.”

            Eldris scanned his face as he spoke, and didn’t look entirely convinced.  “Arum,” he said, “I’m not going to lie to you.  Issmoroth hurt a great many people, and some of those people are going to blame you.  I can’t tell them how to feel.  However, neither I nor Mistress Reinne intends to tolerate incivility.  Is that understood?” 

            Arum thought about that, and wondered if the way Dannica had spoken to him counted as “uncivil.”  He decided that no, the girl had been entirely within her rights to speak to him the way she had.  “I understand,” he said. 

            “Good,” Eldris said, and patted him on his unburnt shoulder. 

            Arum sat and talked with Eldris and Ban for some time, and he found himself relaxing somewhat in their company.  They talked about favorite books, and about which spells they found particularly challenging to cast, and at Eldris’ coaxing, Arum talked a bit about what sort of things he especially liked to draw. 

            “Living things . . . well, living things that move, you know, like people and animals, they’re the hardest,” he confessed.  “But if I can draw them well, I like those drawings the best.  I had a whole pile of favorite drawings at home--” and then he stopped.  His former home with Vok would be destroyed now.  His room, his drawings, the small toys that Vok had allowed him to keep, all would be demolished. 

            “Ban, would you get us some wine and bread and butter?” Eldris said, after Arum fell silent.  “I’m getting a little fatigued, and I don’t doubt that Arum feels the same way.”

            Ban was on his feet quickly, and said, “Yes, Master, I will!” then he hurried off. 

            Once the other boy was gone, Eldris turned to Arum and said, “This loss must seem unbearable to you.”

            Arum nodded, and he focused on picking at loose threads in his borrowed robe so he wouldn’t think about crying. 

            “Home is home—that’s true for each of us, no matter what anyone else thinks of that home.  I am so, so sorry that the Masters’ fight with Issmoroth—with your Master Vok—came to this.  I wish it could have been different.  I wish there was some way that Vok could have been welcomed back among us.  Were you hoping that somehow he could be made good again?” Eldris asked gently.

            Arum slowly shook his head, even as the world around him blurred with the onset of tears.  “I knew,” he whispered.

            “Then that had to be all the harder,” Eldris said, with deep compassion. 

            Arum’s throat was squeezing closed, and he felt that he had to get up and run before he humiliated himself utterly by crying in public.  He was about to get up and bolt when Eldris put his hand on his uninjured shoulder. 

            “No, don’t go,” he said kindly.  “Stay right here.  No one will think ill of you for feeling sad.  You’re not the only one who lost someone important during the attack on Vok’s fortress.  Plenty of people are mourning masters, students, friends.  You’re entitled to grieve with the rest of us.” 

            Arum looked up and scanned Eldris’ face after that, trying to determine if he were serious or not.  All he saw was a great deal of sincerity.  Finally, feeling reassured that he was indeed allowed to feel exactly what he was feeling, he started to weep openly, and he let Eldris gather him into his arms. 

            “It’s not all right now, you poor, poor boy,” Eldris soothed.  “It’s not.  But it will be.  You will eventually start to feel better.  It won’t always be this bad.  That’s how grief works.” 

            Arum sobbed wretchedly on Eldris’ shoulder, his sorrow shaking both of them in its intensity.  After a short while, Eldris began to rock him.  “It will get better,” the Archmage insisted softly.  “It will.” 

            Eventually, Arum stopped crying, and he disengaged himself from Eldris’ embrace.  He was still shaking a bit, but he felt noticeably better.  He was wiping his eyes on his handkerchief when Ban returned with a wooden tray carrying the things Eldris had asked him to bring, as well as a little soft cheese. 

            “What’s the matter?” the tow-headed boy asked, once he saw Arum cleaning himself up quickly.

            “Set it down here, Ban,” Eldris said, patting the end of the bench.  “Sit down, and we’ll talk.”  The boy obeyed, and Eldris said, “Arum has lost someone he loved very much.  Just as much as you love me.  Does that make sense?”

            Ban nodded and asked, “Who?”  Then he looked at Arum, back at Eldris, and seemed aghast.  “Not Issmoroth!”  Arum couldn’t help but wince inwardly at the horror implicit in Ban’s tone.

            “Ban, this is a hard thing to understand, but I think you’re old enough now to grasp it.  Sometimes even people who do evil can do good at the same time.  They can have people who love them.  Even good people can love them, sometimes despite themselves.  And that’s what’s happened to Arum.  Vok Issmoroth used to take care of him, and now that Vok is gone, he’s on his own.  That’s left him very sad.  Do you understand that?”

            Ban looked very confused.  Then he turned to Arum and asked in a faintly disgusted voice, “Issmoroth took care of you?”

            Arum nodded.  “He used to--” the first thing that came to mind was Vok tucking him into bed at night, often sitting next to him in a chair, telling soothing stories.  True, Arum had such difficulty sleeping because Vok himself had forced him to help perform terrible rites and experiments, but at that moment, all Arum could easily remember was the kindness. 

            “He used to what?” Ban asked, puzzled.

            “He used to . . . to sing to me,” Arum confessed.  Vok had a flawed, wavery singing voice, but it had not mattered to him.  The thing that made a difference was that Vok had been willing to sit beside Arum’s bed and sing until the young boy went to sleep. 

            Why had he done such evil things as well?  

            “He used to sing to you?” Ban asked, sounding as if he found the idea patently bizarre. 

            “Ban,” Eldris said a bit reprovingly. 

            “What, Master?” Ban asked, as if truly confused as to why he’d deserved even such a mild rebuke.  “What did I say?” 

            Eldris sighed as he looked at him, and then said, “When you’re a little older, you’ll realize that people aren’t all good or all evil.  Most of us are a mix of the two.” 

            “I know that,” Ban insisted.  “But surely, someone like Issmoroth wasn’t--”

            “Ban.  Hush,” Eldris said firmly. 

            Ban opened his mouth as if to protest, but then shut it again.  “Yes, Master,” he said. 

            Eldris directed their conversation to other areas while they ate and drank, and before long the wine had made Arum drowsy.  He’d been subsisting on watered wine while he was convalescing, and was no longer accustomed to the full draught. 

            “Why don’t you help Arum back to his room, Ban,” Eldris said, after Arum yawned again.

            “Yes, Master,” Ban said, and helped Arum to his feet.  He led the sleepy boy back to his room in the stone wing of the Healer’s House, and saw that he got into bed.  Once Arum was settling in to take a nap, Ban walked over toward the door, and then stopped.  He turned and asked, “Issmoroth was really kind to you?”  He sounded dubious.

            “Sometimes he was,” Arum answered.  His heavy lids parted enough to see Ban standing at the door, looking back.

            The tow-headed boy shook his head and muttered something like, “Sounds crazy to me,” and exited.  


	3. Chapter 3

            Arum’s tenure at the Healers’ House ended when he got into trouble.  He had been feeling lonely and bored, and most of the other convalescents seemed to avoid him.  While feeling desperate to find something to do, he climbed the gnarled apple tree that shaded part of the garden.  The apples were still smallish and green, and no good for eating, but they felt like just the right size and weight to throw.  Arum wasn’t irresponsible enough to throw them at people.  Nothing of the sort.  Instead, he made a few magical runes in the apples’ skin with his thumbnail, and then tossed them up one by one with a single spell word.  The things ignited in phosphorescent reds, golds, and blues, sailing high up into the air—he hoped high enough to put on a show for passersby on the street outside the Healers’ House.  He liked to think that his game was amusing others as well.

            The apples came down to earth with a satisfying _thunk_ , some bouncing high before they finally settled in the grass or amongst the garden plants.  They guttered to extinguishment there, sometimes after lighting a dry stalk or two on fire, but without any real damage.

            It never occurred to Arum that anyone would object to his game.  He’d played similar ones while living with Master Vok all the time. 

            He was therefore quite surprised when Mistress Reinne, that venerable stout blonde lady, came striding out into the courtyard shouting his name.  She was carrying a long, solid-looking switch as well, which made his heart lurch.  Ordinarily, if an adult were calling him, he would have gotten down out of the tree at once, but the way Reinne was wielding that stick made Arum think that staying up in the branches just might be a better idea.

            “Arum Errarin, get down out of that tree _immediately_!” Reinne shouted.  She gave her switch an ominous _swoosh_ through the air, and Arum decided that he was definitely staying where he was.

            “What did I do?” he asked anxiously. 

            “What did you do?!” Reinne exclaimed.  “You practically set the house on fire!”

            “I really didn’t,” he pointed out. 

            She started in with a series of “well, what if’s” that sounded highly implausible to Arum’s ears.  She also kept cutting the air with her switch, and each time she did that he became more and more determined to stay where he was.

            “You can’t stay up there forever,” Reinne said darkly.

            “I can stay up here longer than you think,” Arum said.  He was rather surprised at himself for talking back to an angry adult that way.  It wasn’t at all the way he’d been brought up.  But there was something about the way that Reinne was shouting and waving a stick that undercut her authority for him.  He’d obeyed Vok when he’d ranted and become unreasonable, but then, Vok was capable of binding him with crippling pain spells if he didn’t do as he was told.  Arum was willing to bet that Reinne wouldn’t do the same thing.

            The shouting started to attract an audience, and all sorts of wizards as well as their servants began to arrive in a ring around the apple tree.  “Your bottom will burn for this, boy,” Reinne fulminated.

            “Put the stick down,” Arum said. 

            “What?” she exclaimed, as if he’d dared to call her a vulgar name. 

            “Put the stick down, and I’ll come down,” he said.

            Some of the novices had the temerity to giggle, as if they’d longed to say such a thing to the Mistress Healer at times themselves.  Arum noticed Dannica standing off to one side, her arms folded and her expression icy.  Plainly, here was one young person who didn’t find his defiance amusing. 

            Reinne rounded on the tittering adolescents and cried out, “Be silent!”  They became quiet at once—she did still have the stick, Arum reflected. 

            “If you don’t come down out of that tree by the time I count to ten, I’ll--”

            Arum never found out what she was threatening to do, because from across the garden, a man called out, “Reinne!” 

            Arum couldn’t see Eldris from where he sat among the leaves and branches, but he recognized his voice.  Was the Archmage here to rescue him, or condemn him?  Arum thought that perhaps if Eldris commanded him to come out of the tree, he’d do so, even if it meant a whipping.  The man had been so kind to him that he didn’t know if he could directly disobey him. 

            Mistress Reinne turned around, and she said, “Master Eldris!  Slow down, slow down.  You’ll half kill yourself at that pace.  The boy’s made it quite clear that he’s not going anywhere.” 

            Despite her words, Arum seriously thought about jumping to the ground and trying to bolt while her back was turned.  The trouble was he was a little too high to make him feel sure he wouldn’t land without breaking something. 

            “Let me take care of this,” Eldris said.  “I’ve spoken with the boy before.  I’ll try to see if I can get him down.”

            “You shouldn’t have to trouble yourself,” Reinne said.  “He knows he’s under my authority while he’s in my house.  I’ve made that entirely clear to him.”

            She had, but in Arum’s mind she’d lost the moral right to command him as soon as she started to seem out of control.  He simply wasn’t coming out of the tree for her.  Not while she was holding a stick, anyway.

            “Truly, let me deal with the situation.  You have patients to attend to.  They need you, Reinne,” Eldris said.

            Mistress Reinne seemed to waver at that.  Arum saw Eldris come up to her, Ban at his side as usual.  The Archmage held his hand out for the switch, and said, “I swear, I won’t let him off with less than he deserves.” 

            That seemed to seal the deal for Reinne.  “Very well,” she said at last, handing him the stick.  “But keep in mind that I think he needs his bottom blistered.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind,” Eldris said.  As Reinne began to walk away, Eldris said to the still-gathering throng—“I need to speak to Arum alone.”  Several of the assembled people rather reluctantly left, but others stayed.  “Go on, now,” Eldris pressed. 

            More left, but the most stubborn spectators didn’t leave until Mistress Reinne, from out of Arum’s field of vision, shouted, “Come away from there or I’ll take back the stick!”  Everybody but Eldris scurried at that.

            Eldris sat down on the grass beneath the tree and, and set the switch down beside him.  “Well, this is your chance to tell your side of it, Arum,” he said.

            Arum explained about how he’d only been idly playing, and how Reinne had come out threatening to thrash him. 

            Eldris nodded.  “Did you realize that there are very strict rules about calling fire in Galeddin?” he asked.  The boy shook his head.  “I thought maybe you didn’t.  In order to reduce the risk of fire to the city, wizards may only call flame to the wicks of candles and lamps, or else to wood in a fireplace.  The only exception is for calling fire in defense of the city.  You see how three-fourths of this building are made of timber?” he said, nodding to the walls around the courtyard.  Arum looked around, beginning to understand.  “What if we let just anyone play with fire here?  Many might be hurt, or killed.  I know that your game seemed harmless to you, but then, everyone who plays with fire thinks his game is harmless, until he discovers it isn’t.” 

            “I wish Mistress Reinne had explained it that way, sir,” Arum said ruefully.  He wasn’t feeling nearly as much like a wronged innocent as he had been a few moments ago. 

            “I wish she had too,” Eldris said.  “But I think I understand why she didn’t.  When our young people come to us at twelve or thirteen, the first things we teach them are the laws of the city.  They spend half a year on it, before they’re ever taught a single magic spell.  She probably assumed that you knew the laws as well.  But Issmoroth didn’t teach you that sort of thing, did he?”

            Arum shook his head. 

            “No, I thought not.  I want you to learn the laws of the wizards and the legitimate uses of power,” he said.  “Issmoroth recognized no authority but himself, but then, that is one definition of evil.  We will teach you what good is here.” 

            Arum had always wanted to be good.  “Will you sir?” he asked.

            Eldris smiled.  “Of course.  Now will you come down?”

            Arum thought about that.  “Are you going to whip me?” he asked anxiously.

            “That’s one of the things I’d like to talk to you about,” Eldris said.  “My immediate feeling is that you should not be whipped for playing with fire, because you didn’t know there was a law against it.  However, you did know perfectly well that you were expected to obey Mistress Reinne, and you defied her rather spectacularly.  I think you may well deserve some punishment for that.” 

            “But she was going to whip me for something I didn’t understand,” Arum protested.

            “I think there were other ways you might have dealt with that situation other than outright defiance,” Eldris said.  “I’d like to teach them to you, if you’ll come down.” 

            Arum thought about that.  “If you decide to whip me, will it be bad?” he asked warily.

            “Well, no whipping is good,” Eldris pointed out.  “But I don’t think you deserve severe punishment, no.” 

            Still not entirely willing to give up the advantage of being in the tree, Arum asked, “How bad is ‘not severe?’”

            “It will hurt a lot while it happens, but it won’t last all that long, and you’ll be able to sit comfortably within an hour or two,” Eldris said. 

            That was far from bad by Arum’s standards, and he realized that he couldn’t stay in the tree forever.  Even still, he wasn’t sure.  “You’re not going to whip me out here, are you?” he asked. 

            “No.  Not in public.  I’d never do that,” Eldris said.  “If you’re going to be punished, it will be in private.  No matter what.”  Vok hadn’t cared how many people might be watching when he lashed Arum, and the boy had at times been terribly humiliated.  He still didn’t want to be punished, but if it had to happen, he appreciated the idea that it would not be before others. 

            “All right, sir.  I’ll come down,” he said.  He decided he could trust Eldris, although the decision was slightly against what he thought of as his better judgment.  The boy climbed down, and warily approached the Archmage.  Eldris didn’t make a sudden grab for the switch, or reach out to catch Arum. 

            Arum ended up sitting—quite deliberately—a bit out of arm’s reach on the grass beneath the tree.  Truly desirous to know, he asked, “What should I have done differently, sir?”

            Eldris smiled at him, and said, “You’re a very good boy, Arum.  A very brave boy.  But what I wish you had done is simply told Mistress Reinne that you didn’t understand why you were in trouble.  There are ways to do that that aren’t disrespectful.  One is simply to say, ‘With all due respect, ma’am, what have I done wrong?’  Try repeating it, so that you can remember for next time.”

            Arum obeyed.  “With all due respect ma’am, what have I done wrong?”

            “Other things you might have said include, ‘Please help me understand, ma’am, why am I to be punished?’ or, ‘I’m confused, ma’am.  Why must I be whipped?’  No Master or Mistress ought to refuse to tell you why they plan to discipline you, and if any of them do, I want you to tell me.  We don’t beat our novices and leave them hurting and confused here.” 

            Since that was exactly what Vok had often done, Eldris’ words were a bit of a revelation.  “Now, since you’re very new and weren’t sure what you’d done wrong, I don’t think you deserve anything terrible,” Eldris said.  “However, I think you knew that your duty was to obey Mistress Reinne, and not to bait her from the branches of a tree.  Is that right?”

            Arum looked down into the grass, and stirred the dirt with a little stick.  After a moment he had to confess, “Yes, sir.” 

            “And why should you have obeyed her?” Eldris asked.

            That question had never entered Arum’s head.  Adults were simply to be obeyed . . . weren’t they?  “Just . . . just because, sir,” he said.

            “No, there’s more to it than ‘just because,’” Eldris said.  “It’s true that as one of our Master Wizards, Rienne is entitled to be treated respectfully.  However that’s not the only reason why you should obey her.  Obedience is the first vow you will take, if you choose to train with us.  That’s because, no matter how Issmoroth treated it, magic is not a toy.  It is not a tool to get what you want out of nature, either.  It’s part of life itself, and those who wield it take on enormous responsibility.  At sixteen years old, and poorly trained in magical ethics, I’m afraid, you can’t be expected to understand the possible ramifications of your actions, when it comes to magic.  You need adults there to guide you and help you, and protect you and others, if it comes to that.  I’m afraid I’m very serious about obedience, Arum.  I don’t ask to you follow directions blindly.  You can ask questions, either in the moment, or in the case of an emergency, afterward.  However, you _must_ follow the instructions of the Master Wizards, and to a lesser extent, those of your elders who are not yet masters.  Does this make sense to you?”

            Arum nodded.  “Yes, sir.  It does,” he said. 

            “How do you feel about having defied Mistress Reinne now that you understand?” Eldris asked.

            “Not . . . so good, Master Eldris,” he had to admit. 

            “A sensible answer.  Now, even before I explained to you the critical importance of obedience, you knew that you shouldn’t talk back to her.  Isn’t that right?”

            Arum didn’t like the way this conversation was going, but he couldn’t deny that what Eldris said was true.  “Yes,” he said softly.  “I knew it.”

            “What ought to happen to boys who do things they know they should not do?” Eldris asked.  When Arum went on stirring the dirt in between the grass blades, he said sternly, “Look at me, Arum.”

            The boy met the Archmage’s steady, deep brown gaze and admitted, “They ought to be whipped, sir.” 

            “I think so too.  I promised you that the punishment wouldn’t be terrible, and it won’t be, but you’re going to learn a lesson today.  So up you get.  We’ll go upstairs to your room and take care of things, and then you’ll be free to enjoy the rest of your day.”  Eldris’s tone was compassionate, but very firm. 

            Arum walked ahead of him, a little nervous of the fact that the man was carrying the switch, but the Archmage kept his word not to lash the boy in public.  In a way, it would have been easier if Eldris had broken his promise and whipped him in the courtyard, because then Arum could have resented him, and imagined that the punishment was unfair.  As it was, the boy had no one to be upset with but himself.  Eldris had never been anything but good to him, and now he was disappointed in Arum’s behavior. 

            By the time they got back to Arum’s room, the boy’s heart was very heavy.  Eldris shut the door behind them and said, “Now it’s time to wipe your slate clean.  Take down your breeches, Arum.”

            Arum winced inside, but obeyed, lifting his gray novice’s robe to take down his pants.  Eldris didn’t have to tell him to hitch up his robe and his shirt to the small of his back.  Arum knew how this worked. 

            “Put your bolster just here.  Then kneel on the floor and bend over your bed,” Eldris said.  Arum had to pull his bed out a bit from the wall to comply, since the bed was narrow, and when he bent over it properly, his head and shoulders hung over the far side.  Still, he got himself positioned correctly—torso supported on the bed, hands on the floor in front of him, knees grazing the floor behind.  His belly was supported slightly by his bolster, which tilted his bare bottom up in the right position for punishment. 

            “Very good,” Eldris said.  “I’m going to give you ten for disobedience and defiance.  You won’t get any for playing with fire, since you didn’t know, but let this be a warning to you.”  Arum nodded, and gritted his teeth. 

            There came a _swoosh_ and then a _crack!_   And then suddenly Arums bottom was burning.  He gasped at the impact.  He’d been prepared for ten of something, but not, perhaps, ten of _those_!  After four, the boy was struggling to keep still, and after six, he was crying out with each stroke.  Vok had been a somewhat feeble old man, and he’d made up for his physical weakness by inflicting an enormous number of blows—as well as blows in vulnerable parts of Arum’s body, such as his face.  Eldris was a much younger man, and while he gave Arum far fewer strokes, he made each stroke count. 

            By stroke eight Arum had tears in his eyes, and by the time the final _crack_ fell across his bottom, he was crying.  It just hurt so much, and worse, he felt that he’d let Eldris down.  “There, we’re done, Arum,” Eldris said once the last stroke fell.  “When you feel ready, you may get up.” 

            Arum didn’t feel ready for a while.  He felt ashamed and guilty and embarrassed, and he didn’t want to look the Archmage in the eye.  He stayed where he was for a bit, until Eldris finally took one of his hands and put his other hand on Arum’s shoulder, then gently lifted the boy until he was on his knees.  Arum’s shirt and robe fell down over his bare bottom then, trapping some of the stinging heat, but at least giving him a modicum of dignity. 

            “Here,” Eldris said, and he presented Arum with a clean handkerchief.  Arum thanked him through his tears, and got busy wiping his eyes and his nose. 

            “Good boy,” Eldris said, patting Arum on the back.  “You took that very bravely.”

            Arum looked up at the Archmage, aching inside for something that he couldn’t express.  In his heart, he wanted the sort of tenderness Eldris had shown him the day before, but he didn’t know how to ask.  “Sir?” he asked, still half-blinded by tears.

            “What is it, my son?” Eldris answered gently. 

            “Are you sure it gets better after this?  Because so far it’s been awful.”  A stab of grief pierced him, and he started weeping in earnest again.

            Eldris moved the bolster and sat down on the edge of Arum’s bed.  He coaxed the boy closer until Arum was kneeling before him, his arms folded across Eldris’ lap, sobbing into the crook of his elbow.  The Archmage stroked Arum’s dark, curly hair and assured him, “Yes, it gets better.  It’s been so hard for you, hasn’t it?  Every single morning you wake up must feel like a bad dream.”

            Arum nodded into the crook of his arm.  Then of course, for months, mornings had felt like bad dreams while he was living with Master Vok, too.  It had been a very long time since he’d been happy anywhere.  “I just want to go home,” he managed. 

            “Home to Vok?” Eldris asked gently.

            Arum wasn’t exactly sure he did want that.  What did he mean by “home?”  Home to his parents?  He doubted they were sorry he’d left.  “I don’t know,” he said at last.

            Eldris just kept stroking his hair, and then at last gave a long exhale.  “I wasn’t going to bring this up for a while, since I wanted you to adjust a little more before you had to make a decision.  Still, I think it might be best for both you and Reinne if you moved somewhere else.  I understand that you’re well enough to be discharged.”  Arum hadn’t heard that, but it was good news.  He didn’t want to have to rattle around the Healers’ House, feeling bored, and under the charge of someone who didn’t like him. 

            “Once you’re settled and have a chance to meet some of the other masters, I want to offer you a choice of who you’re going to study with.  That person would act as your teacher, your guide, and your guardian.  There are several masters currently in Galeddin who are eligible to take on a new student.  I am on that list.  I don’t want you to say yes or no about working with me permanently yet, because I want you to get a chance to meet many masters and their current students.  But for now, for tonight at least, I’d like you to consider coming home with Ban and me.  I’m well enough to leave, and even if I weren’t, I’m a little too old for Reinne to whip if I disobey her,” Eldris said wryly. 

            Arum lifted his head and sat back so he could look up at the Archmage.  He wanted Arum to come and stay with him?  Really?  The boy hesitated only so long as it took to consider the fact that Eldris _had_ just whipped him, but he decided that this didn’t disqualify him as a good potential guardian.  All boys and girls got whipped by the adults who looked after them.  Besides, Arum couldn’t help but admit that he’d rather deserved it.  Eldris had been firm but fair with him, and he decided he couldn’t ask for much more than that.  What was more, the Archmage comforted him with wisdom and compassion when he was sad, and had defended him from the over-angry Mistress Reinne.

            “Yes, sir,” Arum said, feeling the first stirrings of hope he’d experienced in he didn’t know how long.  “I’d like to come stay with you.”  


	4. Chapter 4

            It wasn’t a long walk to Eldris’ house, but Arum found himself getting tired anyway.  He hadn’t realized how much stamina he had lost by lying in bed so long.  Unfortunately, there was really nowhere to stop and rest.  The streets of Galeddin were crowded with people, even near to dusk.  For the most part, Galeddin looked like what Arum remembered of Mormoros, only except for a tendency for the buildings to be tall and narrow brick instead of chunky half-timber.  Here and there were definite signs that this was a wizards’ city, however, ruled by wizard lords of old and now officially run by the Council of Wizard Masters, although for centuries real temporal power had been centered in the hands of an elected mayor and aldermen. 

            Overhead in one street, Arum saw a heavy painted sign depicting what could only be a collection of power-focusing crystals.  A fat, bored-looking proprietor sat just outside the shop, drinking a tankard of beer and looking as if he might as well have been a butcher as a seller of magical goods.  Other shops’ signs advertised things such as books and writing materials, staffs, and herbs.  The meadow-smell of the dried herbs partially masked the stink of the manure-covered street, and Arum inhaled deeply as they passed the shop.  Then there was the usual collection of wandering sellers and tradesmen, although their cries were somewhat different than Arum remembered from Mormoros.  A man crying, “Scissors and knives to grind!” got a customer, and the boy had to plug his ears as the shrill grating of a knife on a grindstone started up. 

            The farther they walked, the more bookshops there seemed to be, and Arum dimly remembering Vok telling him that the Council Masters lived in the ancient heart of the city, surrounded by booksellers.  Eventually, they stopped in front of a very tall, narrow, slightly-crooked house that had been painted a butter yellow.  “We’re home!” Ban cried, and threw open the door. 

            Inside it was neat and orderly, with bookshelves lining the walls.  Arum recognized several of the magical implements that had been set up on high shelves.  Some of them were quite powerful.  Vok had used such implements to do things like spy on his enemies and call storms down on their ships at sea.  Arum wondered how the Archmage used them. 

            Candles were burning on the mantelpiece and on a table set about with chairs.  There was a small fire in the grate, which was not uncomfortable despite the fact that it was summer.  The night was coming on cool and damp.  In front of the fire were a sturdy wing-backed chair and a cross-legged stool with a cushion on the seat. 

            Ban ran to the stairway and shouted out, “Gwym!  Kellen!  We’re home!”  And soon footsteps sounded on the stairs.  After a moment, a middle-aged man and a plump, youngish woman entered the downstairs room.  Both wore aprons, and the man was dusted slightly with flour.

            “Welcome home, my lord Archmage,” said the man, with a bow. 

            The woman dropped a curtsey and said, “My lord, young master Ban.  I’m so glad to see you home!” 

            “Thank you, Gwym, Kellen.  I’m very glad to be home,” Eldris said with a smile.

            “Arum, this is Gwym,” Ban said, holding his hand out toward the man.  “He’s our cook.  And this is Kellen.  She takes care of the house.”

            “Hello.  I’m pleased to meet you,” Arum said.  He wondered if “Gwym” and “Kellen” were their real names.  Vok had called all his female servants “Nell” and all his male servants “Pol,” just so he wouldn’t have to bother figuring out who was who.  Arum had known most of the servants’ real names, but then, he’d been strongly discouraged from associating with them.  Or with anybody, really. 

            “Are you hungry?” asked Gwym.  He was a sturdy-looking fellow with graying brown hair.

            “I’m fine, Gwym,” Eldris said.

            “So am I,” said Arum.

            “I’m ravenous!” said Ban.  “What do we have?”  He ended up following Gwym out to the kitchen, which was actually an outbuilding in the court to the back. 

            Eldris looked at Arum and seemed to recognize that the walk had exhausted the boy.  He patted the back of the wing chair and said, “Have a seat, Arum.”

            “Thank you, Master,” the boy said, and settled himself carefully into it.

            Once Kellen had gone, to make up the rooms upstairs, she said, Eldris was about to sit down on the stool when he lifted the cushion and asked, “Need this?”

            “No sir,” Arum said, glad that the Archmage hadn’t asked while there was anyone else in the room.  “I’m feeling much better.”  As Eldris had promised, Arum’s bottom had stopped being so sore a couple of hours after his whipping.  He still had a tender spot or two, but it wasn’t bad at all. 

            “That’s good,” Eldris said with a smile, and put the cushion back on the stool’s leather top.  He groaned softly as he sat down.  “I’m definitely not getting any younger,” he said.

            Surprised, Arum looked over at him.  Judging by the light lines on Eldris’ face and his only slightly-silvered hair, Arum guessed that the man couldn’t be much more than fifty, if that.  “You’re not old, Master,” he said.

            Eldris laughed softly.  “Thank you for saying so, but my joints are telling me something different,” he said. 

            Arum wondered how much the fight against Vok had taken out of him.  He thought about asking what had happened, but then he decided he wasn’t ready to hear it.  He thought he might never be ready to listen to the way that Vok died.  “Roasted in his own juices,” Ban had said.

            “How did you find me?” he asked instead.

            “It was by accident,” Eldris said.  “We’d actually despaired of your life when we didn’t find you with Issmoroth or on any of the upper floors.  We didn’t realize that he had a whole labyrinth of underground chambers until he tried to escape through a hidden tunnel.”  Eldris fell silent, and Arum could just imagine what he was thinking of as he contemplated what he had seen in those lower workrooms. 

            “I’m sorry,” Arum said softly, apologizing for his former self, for what he had helped Vok do.  “He was--”

            “It was not your fault,” Eldris said firmly.  “He used you cruelly, Arum.  He told you what he wanted you to hear, and let you believe what you wanted to believe.  And in return, you loved him.  Now, that says nothing bad about you.  You were an innocent child when you went to live with him, and children are born to love the people who care for them.  He knew that, and he used it.  I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, my son.” 

            Arum shook his head.  He’d known it.  In a way, he’d known it almost from the first.  “I just wanted to believe . . .” he said sadly.

            “Of course.  Of course you wanted to believe.  But that’s not what love is, Arum.  Love isn’t giving someone just enough of what they need to survive, and then taking absolutely everything they have to give.  That’s something like . . . vampirism.  It’s a wicked thing.”

            Arum sat and thought about that for a short while.  Finally he asked, “Then what is love, Master?”

            Eldris sat for a few moments, thinking.  Finally he said, “Love is about the loved one, and not the lover.  It’s about giving rather than taking.  I believe that you truly loved Vok, for example.  You gave to him of yourself, purely and innocently, without reservation.  The only problem was that he didn’t deserve your love.”

            “Oh,” Arum said quietly.  Eldris had just described his relationship with Vok perfectly.  How had he known?  “Does this happen to other people?” he asked.

            “Well, fortunately there aren’t many people as wicked as Vok around, but yes, it happens to others.  I’m sorry to say that it happens all the time.” 

            “Has it ever happened to you, Master?” Arum asked.

            Eldris was quiet for a long time.  When he drew his breath to reply, Ban came crashing through the back door, calling out, “We have toasted cheese!”

            Arum was annoyed at the interruption, but filed his question away for later.  He couldn’t imagine who or what could trick the wise and steady Archmage into thinking he was receiving love when he wasn’t. 

            Ben and Gwym brought in toasted bread and cheese, as well as wine and some cold duck.  Ban stood aghast at Arum sitting in the wing chair for a moment, until Eldris said, “It’s fine, Ban.”

            Arum got up quickly, however, and asked, “Is this _your_ chair, Master?”

            “Yes,” said Ban.

            “No,” said Eldris, “Although I do like to sit in it.  If I find you sitting there and I want you to move, I’ll tell you.” 

            Arum was horrified, however.  He sat down on the floor at the foot of the wing chair, even though sitting on the uncushioned floorboards made the tender spots on his bottom ache. 

            “Really, Ban,” Eldris chided gently. 

            “But it’s your chair, Master,” Ban said doggedly.

            “I’ll bring young master Arum his own chair,” said Gwym.  He brought over one of the straight-backed chairs from the table, and set it by the fire.  Gwym looked at Arum, who was still fidgeting a bit on the floor, and said, “I’ll get a cushion.”

            Arum felt his face flush with embarrassment.

            “Did Master Eldris whip you?” Ban asked.

            “Ban.  Tact.  We’ve discussed it,” Eldris said. 

            “But did you?” Ban pressed.

            Sensing the tow-headed boy was about to get into trouble, Arum interrupted: “Yes, he did.  I defied Mistress Reinne and I got punished.” 

            “Was it bad?” Ban asked.

            “Ban!” Eldris exclaimed.

            Arum had had about enough.  “Yes,” he said, “now shut up.”

            Ban looked at Eldris as if wondering if Arum were allowed to talk to him like that.  “Arum could have been more polite,” the Archmage said, “but yes.  Be quiet, Ban.” 

            Another boy might have huffed and decided to sulk, but Ban took the rebuke fairly well.  He sat down on the floor opposite Arum, at Eldris’ feet.  Apparently, when Eldris said “no” it was enough for him. 

            Eventually, they sorted things out so that Eldris and Ban were seated in what were apparently their accustomed chairs, while Arum sat in the straight-backed chair with a cushion.  They ate, and by the time a crier wandered by outside giving the time as ten o’clock and the weather as fair, Arum had started to yawn. 

            “Let’s get you boys upstairs,” Eldris said.  Arum was more than happy.  Ban still seemed to have some energy, but he obeyed without complaint. 

            The second floor had been divided into two small bedrooms.  The front one belonged to Ban, and the back one was Eldris’.  Ban’s bed had just enough room for two, and that was where he and Arum were to spend the night.  As the boys carried candles in tin holders into the dark upper room, Arum noticed something on the wall. 

            It looked like a long, stout switch, held up horizontally by two pegs in the wall.  “Is that what I think that is?” Arum said, worried.

            “Oh, that,” Ban said, as if Arum had made an anxious comment about the sun in the sky, and asked whether it might burn.  “Yes, that’s for whipping me when I don’t obey.  Master thinks it’s better if I can see it all the time.  It reminds me to behave.” 

            Arum nodded, then reached out hesitantly with a finger and touched the rod.  It felt dense, and when he pressed lightly on it, it bent, much to his surprise.  “What wood is that?” he asked. 

            “Oh, it’s arb,” Ban said nonchalantly.  “They bring it into port from somewhere.  I don’t suppose they’d bring it all the way up the river to Mormoros.  But it hurts more than willow.  More than birch, actually.” 

            Unhappy, Arum withdrew his hand.  “Do you get that often?” he asked.

            “Only if I’m bad,” Ban said with a shrug.  He turned and looked at Arum.  “Why, didn’t Issmoroth hit you with worse?”

            Well, yes and no.  Vok had been happy with mere willow and birch, but he’d also set pain spells upon Arum.  He thought about it, and then answered, “Yes.”

            “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Ban said brightly. 

            “I suppose not,” Arum said, and hastened to accept the nightshirt that Ban offered him. It was obviously an old one, with patches on the sleeves, and it was rather too short for Arum, who was taller than Ban, anyway.  However, it would do, and the two boys got into bed and went to sleep.  


	5. Chapter 5

            Deep in the night, Arum dreamed.  He dreamed that it was the last night he’d spent with Vok, within the confines of Vok’s stronghold.  “Come my sweet child,” the old man said in his high, age-roughened voice.  “There is much work to be done.”

            Arum followed the old man down along the stairs of the house.  Ahead of him, Vok was slow, and the cane he always carried made _tock_ -ing noises on the wood of the steps.  Vok was a small man, shorter than Arum by several inches.  He had long, straggly white hair and a wrinkled face that had faded to the color of tallow, but his eyes retained the hard-cut quality of blue crystal. 

            Vok shunned the dark robes of the wizards, due to the fact that the Masters had rejected him decades ago.  According to him, they were jealous of his powers.  Instead of robes, he wore the dark blue doublet, breeches and stockings of a city professional, somewhat out of date, but clean and crisp nonetheless.  He kept his student, Arum, in near-identical attire. 

            Vok led the boy through the familiar hidden passage beside a fireplace, and then down into the cut-stone workrooms that spread out in a labyrinth below.  The Master Wizard called a white cone of light over their heads as they descended, and it threw velvet-dark shadows behind them.  Before long, condensation appeared on the walls and it glistened in the blazing witchfire. 

            Arum was silent and grim.  He had recently sent a pigeon to Galeddin and the Archmage with evidence of what Vok did in these catacombs—images magically trapped in a silver mirror.  Vok didn’t yet seem like he knew.  But what would happen when he found out? 

            As Vok led the way down, his ragged voice echoed off the stone walls.  “Our newest creations need sustenance, my child.  Don’t worry—it won’t hurt much.” 

            “Yes, sir,” Arum said softly, and began unlacing his left sleeve.  The “creations” were something on the order of half-lizard, half-bird, and they were meant to become guardians for Vok’s stronghold.  They also drank blood.  Once Arum had his sleeve off, he untied the cuff of his white linen shirt and rolled it back up to the biceps.  The veins of his forearm were criss-crossed with long, narrow bite marks and whitened scars.  He had helped bring Vok’s creations to life for years. 

            Once they reached the underground room where the little lizardlings were creeling, Arum walked up to their cage.  They were bigger now—some of them had a wingspan the length of a young child, and Arum wondered how he could possibly have enough blood to feed them all. 

            Vok took the things out of their cage one at a time, and one by one they latched on to Arum’s arm and suckled.  The boy was feeling faint and ill by the time the creatures had finished and were returned to their cage.

            He stood wavering on his feet, wondering how he was going to make it back up all the steps to the house, when Vok turned to him and smiled.  “Well done, little Arum,” he said gently.  “Our creatures should stay well fed until it’s time to set them on the Master Wizards.”

            Arum’s gray eyes went wide, and he stammered, “Wh-what, sir?”  Did Vok know he had summoned the Masters down upon him?  And if he did, what would he do?

            Then Vok pulled something limp and dark out of his pocket and flung it in Arum’s face.  The thing felt soft when it hit him.  The boy gasped and staggered back, instinctively wiping at his cheek where the thing had touched him.  The object hit the floor with a soft _thud_ , and Arum looked down at it.  It was a bird.  A bird just like the pigeon he had sent out to tell the Archmage about what Vok was doing. 

            The boy looked up and his gaze met Vok’s icy blue one.  The old man’s face was twisted with rage.  “Is this the thanks I get for taking you in?” the old man snarled, lifting his cane and limping straight at Arum.  The boy backed up, glancing behind him for some way of escape, but there was none.  “Is this how you repay your debt to me, _my sweet child?_ ”  Then suddenly pain shot through Arum’s whole body, crushing his breathing and dimming his sight. 

            A death-spell. 

            With the last breath he had, the boy cried out a word of power, and raised his hands to shoot lightning at the old man.  He wasn’t trying to destroy him, that wouldn’t have been beyond his abilities, even if Arum had willed it; he was merely trying to startle him into releasing his terrible, strangling grip.  Vok sneered, his teeth flashing eerily in the electric-blue glare, as he lifted his hand and caught the flickering bolts in his palm, and then crushed the light out by closing his fist.  Then, he slowly extended one finger, and the lightning poured out of his fingertip, rushing through Arum’s body, looking for ground.  The boy screamed.

            He woke up screaming. 

            Just as in his dream, lightning was coursing along the floor and over the walls, leaping from rafter to bedpost, and leaving the pungent smell of ozone in the air.  It took him a moment to realize that someone else was screaming too. 

            “Master!  He’s trying to kill me!” cried a familiar voice.

            Then the door slammed open, and a man called out a single word—this one a word of dissolution and quelling.  The lightning flickered and died away.  Disoriented, Arum looked around in the dark, trying to fathom what had happened.  Then someone thought to summon a cone of witchfire, and he realized he was sitting up in bed next to a terrified Ban, while Master Eldris stood in the doorway. 

            Ban got up out of bed and bolted to Eldris side.  The Archmage put his arm around the trembling boy and said, “It’s all right, Ban.  You’re going to be fine.”

            “He shot lightning at me!” Ban exclaimed. 

            “I doubt he shot it _at_ you, because you’re still here,” Eldris pointed out.  “Arum, what happened?”

            Arum could feel himself shaking, as much with the terror of his dream as with the shock of waking up the way he had.  “I don’t know, sir,” he said wretchedly.  “I must have had a nightmare.” 

            “I see,” Eldris said gently.  “Well, you’re all right now.  Everything’s going to be fine.”

            “I’m not sleeping with him again, Master.  I’m not,” Ban said leaning back from Eldris’ embrace and looking him in the eye.  “You can whip me the rest of the night, but I’m not getting back into bed with him.” 

            “Nobody’s going to whip you, Ban,” Eldris said calmly.  “And I think it would be better if Arum came to stay with me, yes.  Arum, I take it you were trained to shoot lightning if you felt your life was in danger?”

            Arum nodded.  “I thought everybody was . . . ?”

            “Adult wizards are, yes, but not young boys and girls,” Eldris said.  “Especially not young boys and girls who have terrible nightmares!  Come here.”  He beckoned with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Ban’s shoulders. 

            Arum shrank against the headboard and asked, “Are you going to punish me, sir?”

            “Nobody’s going to get punished,” Eldris assured him.  “Nobody did anything wrong.  You had a bad dream, Arum, and you responded to your fear the way that you’d been trained to.  I could wish that you hadn’t been taught to react that way before you were ready to control your reaction, but it’s hardly your fault.” 

            Hesitently, Arum got up out of bed and went to the Archmage.  Eldris hugged him with his free arm.  Holding both boys close, he said, “Nobody’s been hurt.  We were all just scared a little.”

            “More than a little,” Ban said, his voice muffled a bit from where he’d bowed his head against Eldris’ shoulder. 

            “All right, more than a little,” Eldris allowed.  “But everyone’s going to be fine now.”  Arum had to admit that it felt good to be hugged after he’d had a nightmare.  The terror faded more quickly than if he’d struggled through it on his own, and his heart stopped hammering so fast. 

            Eventually, Eldris let the boys go and told Arum, “You go get in bed in my room.”  Arum obeyed, padding to the other bedroom and climbing underneath the still-warm covers.  As he lay, trying to get comfortable, he heard Eldris softly speaking to Ban in the other room.  It sounded as if he were gently tucking the boy in. 

            Arum remembered when Vok used to do that for him, and it left him terribly sad.  Why had his former master been so confusing? 

            When Eldris at last returned, he sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Arum’s dark hair back from his face.  “I’m sorry that happened,” he said.  “You don’t have to be afraid.  No one here is going to hurt you.”

            For some reason, the kinder Eldris was to him, the more Arum felt like crying.  “Does Ban hate me?” he asked.

            “No,” Eldris assured him.  “You just scared him, is all.  He doesn’t hate you.” 

            “Maybe I should sleep alone downstairs,” Arum said.  “That way I won’t hurt anyone if I have nightmares.”

            “I don’t think you should be alone,” Eldris said.  “I think you need someone with you right now.” 

            The unspoken permission to feel hurt and sad removed the last barrier to Arum’s emotions, and tears flooded his eyes.  He abruptly rolled over and stared at the far wall, embarrassed to be crying after a nightmare like a little boy. 

            “Do you want to tell me what your dream was about?” Eldris asked. 

            Arum shook his head.  He wasn’t ready to tell another person what Vok had done to him at the end.  He wasn’t ready to face that ultimate betrayal. 

            “All right.  You don’t have to,” Eldris said.  Eventually, the Archamge got into bed beside Arum.  “If you’re a wild sleeper, we’ll have to get you your own bed,” he said, “but I wouldn’t worry about hurting me in the night with your nightmares.  I know how to handle thrown lightning a lot better than Ban does.” 

            “Yes, sir,” Arum said, trying not to sniffle. 

            Eldris rubbed his back with his hand.  “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that you’ll feel better every single day,” he said.  “There will be better days and worse days for a long time.  But week by week, and month by month, you’ll slowly start to heal.” 

            Arum meant to say “Yes, sir,” again, but found he was too choked by tears to do so. 

            The Archmage spoke to him gently after that, saying calming things that adults say to crying young people, even though the words don’t always make much sense. 

            Eventually, Arum quieted, and found himself dropping off to sleep.  It felt good to know that a grown-up who cared about him was at his back. 


	6. Chapter 6

            Over the next few days, Eldris kept Arum busy memorizing the vows that he would make before the Council of Masters, so that he could be further trained as a wizard.  Ordinarily, the vows came first, before a young person ever began to learn magic, but Vok had considered them contemptable, and so had never taught them to him.  Before long, Arum felt confident that he could both recite the vows from memory and give reasons and examples for why each promise was important.

            The vow-taking itself was quite short.  Eldris took Arum to the great, cavernous gray stone building in the heart of the city where the seven Council Masters met for various weighty purposes.  Most of the Council members were strangers, but Arum did recognize Mistress Reinne, who looked at him with what he interpreted to be silent disapproval.  As the Archmage, Eldris went to sit in the carved oak chair at the head of the Council’s table. 

            The Council’s expressions were generally ones of skepticism, even outright hostility, and he remembered what Eldris had said about some people blaming Arum for Vok’s actions.  The Archmage, by contrast, sat looking at the boy with encouragement and welcome in his dark eyes. 

            Eldris then called Arum’s name, and had him recite his vows to be obedient to his masters and elders, to be honest in all his dealings with others, to be industrious in his work, to use his magic responsibly at all times, and to always treat others with compassion.  He was prepared to be examined by the various Council members as to what each vow meant, but almost no one seemed to have any questions for him.

            The only Council member who had anything to say was a tiny old Mistress sitting at Eldris’ right, who looked up from her tangled knitting and said, “Compassion . . . what does this mean to you?”  He looked at her to try and see if she were implying something negative about him due to Vok’s cruel acts, but she seemed genuinely curious. 

            “Well, Mistress . . . compassion is what I’ve been shown here,” he said.  “You all have every right to hate me because of the things I helped Issmoroth do, but instead you’ve given me a second chance.  I’m extremely grateful.  Also, Master Eldris has helped me understand compassion by being very good to me.  Better than I deserve, really.”

            Eldris smiled and shook his head.  “Not better than you deserve, Arum.  Just better than you’re used to,” he said. 

            Arum said softly, “Thank you, sir.”  He had gone for so long without kindness in his life, and now he was learning what it was.  The resultant mixed emotion was like the sting of blood beginning to flow again in a half-frozen limb. 

            “Well this is all very nice,” said a jowly bald man who was giving Arum a look that the boy interpreted as exasperation.  “And yes, young man, you’re being given a second chance, which is more than has been extended so some others.  You should know that the Archmage has placed quite a lot of trust in you.  I hope you’re worthy of it.” 

            “Really, Risdold,” Eldris chided mildly.  “The boy wouldn’t be here if he weren’t worthy.” 

            “So I’ve heard,” Risdold said, sounding unconvinced. 

            Eldris then turned to the rest of the assembly and said, “Does anyone else have any questions for Arum?”

            And it turned out they did.  A ghostly-pale man sitting at Eldris’ left asked, “How do we know you can be obedient, Arum?  The precise reason you’re here is because you defied your last Master.”

            “In my experience, he’s not terribly obedient,” said Reinne, folding her arms inside her voluminous black sleeves. 

            “I made a mistake, Mistress Rienne,” Arum said, and he could feel himself flush a little as he confessed, “I was whipped for it.  I won’t do it again.”  Reinne did not look as if he’d won over her confidence.  Then he turned to the pale man and said, “Master Eldris explained to me why it’s important for novice wizards to be obedient.  We have to obey our elders because magic can be dangerous, and new students don’t always understand all the risks of the things they might do.”  He looked at Reinne and added, “That’s why I was playing with fire, ma’am.  I didn’t fully understand.  I’m sorry.” 

            She made a “Hmm” noise, but he thought her face might have looked a little less condemnatory than it had. 

            The Council members asked him very pointed questions for about half an hour, after which he found himself shifting from one foot to the other with discomfort at having to stand for so long.  When he met Eldris’ gaze and wordlessly pled for mercy, the Archmage said, “I think that’s enough.  I’m ready to consider him sworn in.”

            “As am I,” said the old lady with the knitting. 

            “Well, I’m not,” said the bald man. 

            But when the vote was tallied, Arum had won, four to three.  Eldris smiled and said, “Welcome to the Society of Wizards, Arum Errarin.”

            It was all Arum could do not to clap his hands and spin around.  He was welcome here!  Well, maybe not entirely welcome, but welcome enough to win a vote. 

            He all but bounced out of the Council Chamber and would have gone running through the streets back home, if running in the street had been remotely safe.  Some of the carters and drayers wove their conveyances in and out through traffic at an unnerving speed. 

            Eldris had to stay behind to talk with the Council about whatever issues they had on their lists for that day—and Arum did not at all envy him.  It was a shining summer day outside, for all that the blue smudges of woodsmoke drifted everywhere, occasionally thick enough to split the sunbeams into golden bars.  Arum would have been happy to run around and play the rest of the day, but he _had_ just taken a solemn vow of obedience and industry, and he had studying to do.

            He took what he thought might have been a long way home, got rather lost, and only managed to make it back to the yellow house a bit before midday.  Once he returned he was sorely tired.  He still hadn’t recovered all his stamina from before his injury at the hands of Vok.

            When he went to open the door, he was shocked when it jolted sharply inward without his even touching it.  The mystery was soon resolved—Ban was inside, and had opened it the moment Arum reached for the handle.  “Is Master Eldris with you?” he asked, his pale blue eyes wide.

            “No,” Arum said.  “What’s the matter?” 

            Ban groaned and went to sit down at the table, which was piled high with an improbable number of books. 

            Kellen looked up from dusting the mantelpiece, and said, “He’s in trouble.”

            “I’m in trouble,” Ban echoed. 

            “Well . . . what happened?” Arum asked.  He walked over to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.  Ban groaned again. 

            “You may as well explain it to him,” Kellen said.  “You’re going to have to explain it to Master Eldris before too long.” 

            “I sort of . . . stopped studying for a while,” Ban confessed, looking wretched.

            “How long is a ‘while?’” Arum asked. 

            “I don’t know,” Ban hedged.  “Since before Master Eldris and the others went to take care of Issmoroth.”

            “Six _weeks_?” Arum asked, incredulous.  “If you haven’t been studying for six weeks, what have you been doing?”

            “Shut up,” Ban said, and glared at him.  “At first I was too worried about Master Eldris to study anything.  And then he came back and started getting better, but I knew I had to stay with him in the Healers’ House.  I couldn’t concentrate with him so hurt.”

            “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Arum said.  “Maybe he won’t be very mad at all.”

            “Yes he will,” Ban said, his shoulders in a miserable slump.

            “Tell him the rest of it,” said Kellen. 

            “Shut up!” Ban repeated.  “He kept asking me how my studies were going, and I knew if I told him the truth that he’d send me back to my classes.  So I lied to him.”

            “Oh,” said Arum, who had just had to swear a vow of honesty before the entire Council that very morning.  He knew perfectly well that Ban had once had to promise the same thing.

            Kellen continued: “And then when Master Eldris got better, Ban decided it was too much work for him to make up all the studying he’d missed, so he just kept not doing it, and lying about it.”

            Arum expected Ban to tell her to shut up again, but the tow-headed boy just nodded.  “I failed an examination today, and Master Belak said he was going to tell Master Eldris about how poorly I did.  I’m going to get the whipping of my life.”

            “Especially because this is the second time he’s done something like this,” Kellen pointed out.

            That time Ban told her to shut up again. 

            “I was thinking about going and spending the night somewhere else.  What do you think?” Ban asked.

            “I don’t think running away is going to help things any,” Arum pointed out.

            Ban sighed tragically and said, “I know.  It would only make it worse.  I just can’t stand sitting here and waiting.  Master Belek has to have told him by now.” 

            “Well . . . why don’t you tell him first?” Arum asked.  “Maybe he’d be less angry if he heard if from you?”

            “If Master Belek hasn’t told him by the time he gets home, I’ll tell him,” Ban said, although his words didn’t have a lot of conviction.

            “Use a mirror,” Arum said, naming the most common method wizards used to communicate with one another at a distance. 

            Ban seemed to shrink into himself.  “I’m afraid to,” he said.

            “You’re hopeless,” Arum said.  He’d had his share of severe whippings—and worse—from Vok, so he did have some sympathy for the other boy.  Even still, Ban definitely seemed to be the author of his own predicament.  After a moment, he added: “Why don’t I help you study, and then maybe Master Eldris won’t realize how long it’s been since you quit doing your work?” He actually had zero faith this would do any good, but it couldn’t hurt Ban to have something to focus on while he waited for their Master to come home.  Besides, maybe the other boy could actually catch up a little. 

            “Would you really?” Ban asked, suddenly looking so hopeful that it was almost sad. 

            “Sure,” Arum said, and he stood and dragged his chair over next to Ban’s.

            “You know what?  I was wrong about you.  I apologize for everything I’ve ever said,” Ban said, offering his hand.

            “Exactly what have you been saying about me?” Arum asked, taken aback.

            “Well . . . nothing much,” Ban said, although he had the grace to look embarrassed.  “Just that, you know, you go nuts and throw lightning at people in the middle of the night.”

            “I did not ‘go nuts!’” Arum said.

            Ban opened his mouth to reply, but then he looked up and gasped.  Arum’s own head snapped around to look at whatever terrifying thing the other boy had seen, and saw only Master Eldris through the front window, approaching the door.  His expression was grim. 

            “I’ve got to go,” Ban said suddenly, and then stood and tried to duck out the back way, toward the court that contained the kitchen.  Exactly where he thought he was going Arum had no idea, since there was no street access from the courtyard, unless Ban wanted to run through someone else’s house. 

            Ban didn’t get far before Eldris entered the house, however, and said sharply, “Banomor!”

            The fair-haired boy stopped abruptly, and then slowly turned around.  “Sir?” he asked, sounding very subdued. 

            Eldris folded his arms in his long black sleeves, and said, “All right.  Let’s hear it.”

            Ban took a step forward, drew a breath, then seemed to hesitate, and burst into tears.  “Don’t whip me, sir!  I’m sorry!” he cried.

            Arum liked to think he personally would have handled the matter with more dignity, and was rather embarrassed for Ban, although he could understand why he was upset. 

            Eldris sighed, and the hard aspect of his expression faded into a kind of weary affection.  “Oh, you’re getting a whipping, my boy.  Make no mistake about that.  But there now . . . it isn’t that bad.” 

            Ban continued to cry, and Eldris walked up to him and embraced him.  “There, now.  I’m disappointed in what you did, not in you,” he said.  “You’re still a good boy.  A good boy who needs a rather serious lesson.” 

            Arum was a bit disgusted in Ban for carrying on, but he watched Eldris very closely.  Heaven forbid that Arum himself should ever do something as silly as Ban had done, but if he did, he wanted to know what might happen.  Eldris hugged Ban until the boy started to calm down, and then he stood back and pointed up the stairs.  “Now.  You get up those stairs, young man, sit on your bed, and wait for me,” he said firmly. 

            Ban started to wail again, but this time Eldris was resolute.  “Do you want me to pull your breeches down right here and spank you right here?” he asked.  “If I have to, I will, and then I’ll _still_ take you upstairs and whip you.”

            Ban shook his head vigorously, and nearly scurried up the steps.  Arum sat in his chair, feeling terribly awkward.  He wanted to leave, but somehow felt he needed permission to do so.  Once Ban was upstairs (and his crying was still audible), Eldris walked over to his wing chair and dropped into it with a faint groan.  Arum just sat and looked at him, feeling vaguely that he was being communicated with, but not knowing what to say.

            At last Eldris ran his hand down over his face, and said, “Arum, if you’re ever offered the honor of taking on an apprentice . . . think twice about it, will you?”

            Arum didn’t know if he felt flattered at having been briefly addressed in an adult-to-adult manner, or crushed at what Eldris had said about apprentices.  “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, feeling somehow guilty over the man’s exasperation.

            Eldris turned and looked at him.  “Why?”

            “Because . . . because sooner or later, I’m going to get into as much trouble as Ban is in now,” he said. 

            “Ah,” Eldris said, and leaned back in his chair again.  Finally he gave a wry smile and said, “I still love my boys, you know.  Even when they’re infuriating.”

            Arum perked up like a wilted plant after a sprinkle of water.  Had he said “boys?”  Plural?  And had he said the word “love?” 

            Vok had claimed to love Arum too, of course, but the ancient wizard had said the word too often, and in too many confusing circumstances.  He’d left Arum wondering what this “love” really was.  But Eldris didn’t send mixed messages.  His actions said “caring,” and now, so did his words. 

            It was on Arum’s lips to say, _I love you too, sir,_ when Eldris dug around in his pocket and produced two silver pennies.  He held them out to the boy, and said, “Go buy us a pie for supper, will you?  I don’t care what kind, so long as it’s not from the greasy-haired lady in the next street.  Risdold once found a rat-tail in his when he bought from her.” 

            Arum realized that Eldris was getting him out of the house so that he wouldn’t have to be upset by the sound of Ban’s whipping, which he appreciated.  He got up and accepted the money from the Archmage, and left the man sitting, looking exhausted, in the wing chair.

            Arum ended up buying a large meat pie from a vendor a few streets over, which the man swore was beef.  It smelled more or less like beef, so he took it.  He had to carry it very carefully back through the jostling crowd, and more than once he felt sure it was going to slip from his grip and be dashed on the cobbles. 

            When he got back to the little street where the tall, yellow house stood, however, it became evident that Ban’s punishment was still going on.  The boy’s cries echoed out from the upper window and added a staccato beat to the rumbling of cartwheels and the yelling of criers.  It was hardly unusual to hear a young person being punished in a city—on the way back from the pie seller’s, Arum had been sure he heard a young girl getting thrashed in one of the houses.  Doors were thrown open to the hot weather, and there was no privacy in such a place. 

            Even still, Arum couldn’t help but feel embarrassed for Ban, and apprehensive for himself.  The bedroom he shared with Eldris abutted the courtyard to the back, and not the street, but that only meant that their close neighbors would get an earful every time Arum got whipped, rather than random passersby.

            And Arum would eventually have to look the neighbors in the eye.

            The boy managed to get through the front door unaided without breaking the pie (he knew there was no point in knocking with Ban making such a noise), and walked through the house.  Inside, the _whoosh_ , _crack!_ of the arb switch was painfully audible.  Worse than willow and birch, Ban had said!

            Arum grimaced instinctively as he passed below Ban’s room, then out into the courtyard beyond.  He delivered the pie unbroken to Gwym, who took it philosophically from Arum’s hands.  “Master Eldris told me to get this,” the boy said, and Gwym nodded.  He set the pie on a shelf, and then got back to slicing cheese for the midday meal. 

            “How much longer . . . ?” Arum asked, not in the slightest meaning the time until lunch. 

            Gwym turned and looked at him, and said nonchalantly, “Oh, I think he’s about done now.  Won’t be much more.” 

            Listening to Ban’s desperate cries, Arum certainly hoped not! 

            Gwym turned out to be right.  Ban got another dozen or so strokes, and then the dampened “ _crack_ ” sounds ceased.  There was a moment of quiet, and then the boy upstairs actually managed to wail louder, clearly aching for comfort. 

            Since his sobs were muffled few seconds later, it seemed he’d gotten it. 

            Arum walked back into the house with trepidation, uncertain what he was going to do with himself as he listened to Ban cry.  He ended up sitting at the table and plugging his ear with one finger while he used his other hand to sketch trees, animals, and flowers on a loose piece of paper.  The drawing calmed him, and allowed him to focus on something else besides the sound of the other boy’s tears. 

            Eventually Ban quieted, and then Eldris’s weary tread came down the stairs.  Belatedly, Arum wondered if his frivolous use of valuable paper was going to get him into trouble.  Vok had never punished him for the misuse of resources, although he had sometimes whipped Arum for what he considered the wasting of time. 

            Arum decided that learning from Ban’s experience would be a good idea, and he didn’t try to hide the sketched-over paper from Eldris.  To the contrary, he held up the sheet for Eldris to see when he came down into the first-floor room. 

            The Archmage seemed preoccupied, and only gave Arum a tired smile when he saw the drawings.  “That’s very good,” he said.

            “Then I’m not in trouble?” Arum said hopefully. 

            “In trouble?  Why would you be in trouble?” Eldris asked.

            “You know . . . for drawing.  All over the paper,” the boy said.

            That seemed to take a moment to connect in Eldris’ head.  “Oh,” he said at last, “Did you draw on both sides?” 

            “No, sir,” Arum said, holding up the blank back.

            “That’s fine, then,” Eldris said.  “Just keep one side for your notes.” 

            The information that he was allowed to draw left Arum so happy that he couldn’t help but get up and go to embrace Eldris.  To his surprise, the Archamage embraced him back hard, as if he’d badly needed the hug.  Puzzled, Arum settled in to do what he knew Eldris would have done if their positions had been reversed: just embrace him as long as he seemed to need it. 

            Before long Eldris leaned back out of the hug and said, “You are a terribly sweet boy, did you know that?” 

            “I am?” Arum asked.  Vok had used dozens of different terms of endearment with him, but never with the sincerity that Eldris had just expressed. 

            “You are,” Eldris said, and he planted a kiss on Arum’s forehead.  The Archmage went and settled himself down in his wing chair then, and said, “It takes a lot out of me to whip you boys, did you know that?”

            “No, sir,” Arum said, feeling guilty for having earned a whipping while in the Healers’ House. 

            “But it’s all right.  What you need is what you need,” Eldris said. 

            Arum had never really thought of punishment as a “need” before.  “What we need, sir?” he asked.

            Eldris looked over at him and asked, “Your parents never explained to you why children need discipline?”

            “Well . . . it’s so we don’t bother people.  And so we don’t grow up to be thieves and shame the family,” Arum said. 

            “I suppose those are good goals,” Eldris said, “but they never taught you how discipline can help you personally?”

            Arum shook his head, mystified.  Eldris said, “Well, what would happen to Ban if I let him avoid his work, and then lie about it?  What kind of man might he grow up to be?”

            Arum thought about it, and then asked, “An irresponsible one, sir?”

            “Exactly,” Eldris said.  “And what about you?  How might you turn out if I let you sit in the branches of a tree and taunt a lady who was only trying to see you healed?”

            When he put it that way, Arum was even more ashamed than he had been.  “A very disrespectful one, sir,” he said.

            “That’s right,” Eldris answered.  “I care about you and Ban enough to want you to grow up to be good, honorable men.  Sometimes, that means saying ‘no’ to you.  Sometimes, that means tanning your hides.”  He shook an affectionate finger at Arum.  “I certainly hope you didn’t think I did that because I enjoyed it!”

            “No, sir!” Arum exclaimed.  “I just . . . I just assumed I’d been bad.” 

            Eldris looked at him with such sadness in his dark eyes.  “My son, you’re too young to ever have been truly bad,” he said.  “Naughty, yes.  Mislead, yes, badly.  But bad?  Not you, Arum.  Even if there were such a thing as a bad sixteen-year-old boy, you wouldn’t be one.” 

            “Oh,” Arum said.  Eldris’ words left him feeling very warm inside, and safe. 

            The Archmage lay back in his chair for several moments with his eyes shut, and then he got up.  “I’m afraid I’m still more weary than I expected,” he said.  “Maybe I should have listened to Reinne when she told me to stay in the Healers’ House an extra day or two.  I think I’m going to go and have a nap.” 

            He walked over and patted Arum on the shoulder.  “You see to your studies.  And draw only on one side of the paper, hmm?”

            “Yes, sir!” Arum said.  As if he were going to say no to this man! 

            The boy sat down and picked up a book on the ethics of magic that he had never seen before, and began to read.  He promised himself then that he was never going to disobey any Master again, both because Eldris commanded obedience from him, and the Archmage deserved that obedience, and because the price of disobedience seemed to be terribly high. 


	7. Chapter 7

            A few nights later, Arum had another nightmare about Vok, although this time he only woke up crying out instead of shooting lightning.  This nightmare was about the great, floating flattish creature that Vok had once conjured up, and which had nearly pierced Arum’s heart as it tried to feed from his veins. 

            The boy awakened in the darkness to the sound of Eldris getting out of bed, and coming to sit on the edge of his mattress.  “It’s all right, Arum,” the Aruchmage said softly.  “It’s all right, my son.  It was just a dream.” 

            This time, Arum was able to haltingly tell Eldris what the dream had been about, and once he was done, Eldris folded him in his arms.  The man gave a long exhale, and something about the very tight way he was holding him told the boy he was angry.  Arum was a bit worried that Eldris might be angry at him for some reason. 

            Eldris soon answered that question: “He had no right to do what he did to you,” he said grimly.  “Everything that Issmoroth did . . . from calling that thing up to feeding it on your blood, was profoundly against the vows he took to our Society.  That will never happen to you here.  Issmoroth lived far from other wizards for a reason.  He knew he’d be condemned if he did such things with our knowledge.  We are not a perfect people, Arum, and I won’t claim we are.  But we are a decent people.  Issmoroth . . . was _far_ from decent.” 

            Relieved, Arum bowed his head to rest it against Eldris’ shoulder.  It felt awfully good to be held after a terrible dream.  Vok used to do it, but there was something faintly theatrical and overdone about his comforting.  Eventually, Arum had ceased to believe in it.  The boy could faintly remember his mother soothing him after his nightmares, but that hadn’t lasted.  Rural people often feared wizardry, and once it became apparent that they boy had magic, his parents shunned him. 

            By contrast, there was just something sure and steady about the way the Eldris embraced him and patted his back that Arum felt he could believe in.

            The day after the nightmare dawned hot, and the boy decided to wear only his shirt and breeches under his gray novice’s robe.  He’d been tested by various Masters after he’d taken his vows, and the decision had been made to keep him a novice for now, even though he would mostly be in classes with juniors.  There had been two deciding factors.  One was Arum’s age; the youngest juniors were generally two years older than he was.  And the other was his total lack of knowledge of the ethics of magic.  Vok had simply not cared about such things, and so had left Arum ignorant.  The trouble was that many more advanced lessons in the study of magic required a firm grasp of the ethics of what one was doing, and so Arum was therefore ineligible to learn at what would ordinarily have been his level. 

            As a result, Arum took some classes with the rawest of novices—the twelve and thirteen-year-olds who poked each other and giggled at the slightest provocation.  In some other cases, however, he was permitted to take classes with sober young adults.  And then he had a few with near-adults--other young people about his age. 

            One of those near-adults, unfortunately, was Dannica Haylser.  Arum had initially pegged her as the sort of mean girl who glanced and whispered to her friends, making them laugh.  He was wrong.

            Dannica didn’t glance; she glared.  And she didn’t whisper.  When she had something to say, she said it out loud.  And when the other young people heard what she had to say, they didn’t laugh; they moved silently to obey. 

            When Arum came to his first Healing lecture, Dannica looked steadily at him across the auditorium, and though he couldn’t hear her over the roar of pre-class conversation, he saw her lips move.  “It’s _that_ boy,” she said. 

            Before long, other students were pointing, and Arum was often able to catch the sibilants in “Issmoroth.”  Some looked frightened, and others looked angry.  A few just looked curious.  But at first in ones and twos, and then in larger groups, half the class moved away from him. 

            He doubted they were all just obeying Dannica.  Too many had given him looks that were too hostile to have come from teenagers who were just following a queen bee.  He remembered what Eldris had said about other people grieving friends and masters in the wake of Vok’s defeat, and wondered if he deserved to be spurned.  Maybe if he’d warned Eldris earlier of the danger, more lives could have been saved. 

            As a result, he sat miserable through his first Healing lecture, and barely got any decent notes.  Instead his paper ended up covered in drawings of fantastical beasts.  The beasts seemed friendlier to Arum than his fellow students did. 

            Feeling rejected and lonely, he wandered out of the auditorium at the end of class, only to hear an aristocratic young voice say, “He _says_ that Issmoroth treated him terribly, but who are we to judge that?  It would be just the sort of thing Issmoroth’s student might do to lie.”

            Arum stopped, shocked, as if slapped.  Did Dannica really doubt that Vok had been extremely abusive?  Did she really think he would make such a thing _up_?  The dream of the previous night returned to him, and he touched the spot on his chest where the flying thing had bitten him in waking life.  The scar tissue was thick there, and extremely real. 

            Anger flashed through him, his sadness withered before it.  He strode out into the colonnade where Dannica and a group of other teenagers stood.  “Did you just call me a liar?” he demanded.  His breath was coming fast, and he could feel a flush of heat across his cheeks. 

            Dannica turned and looked at him in chilly condescension.  She glanced up and down at him and then simply turned her back again.  “Shouldn’t I have?” she asked.

            Arum’s first instinct was to slap her, but he’d been trained in early boyhood to think of boys who hit girls as bullies, and he didn’t want to be a bully.  Denied that instinctive release for his emotions, he got even angrier, and then abruptly untied the cuff of his shirtsleeve.  He shoved the linen of the shirt and the wool of his robe sleeve up to the top of his arm.  Some of the young people standing around Dannica looked and gasped. 

            “No, you shouldn’t.  And _this_ is why,” Arum said, holding out his arm.  Months’-old cuts and abrasions still stood out against the flesh, including the nasty teeth-marks of the things that Vok had commanded him to feed with his blood. 

            Somebody made a sick gulping noise at the sight, and Arum untied his other sleeve.  When he exposed that arm, it became obvious that the wounds and scars there were just as bad.  Many of the young people looked horrified, and some physically backed off.  A knot of others stayed arrayed around Dannica, looking at her, and mirroring her cool disdain. 

            A red-headed boy in Dannica’s group asked, “How do we know any of that was involuntary?  Just because you were wounded serving Issmoroth doesn’t mean that you didn’t follow him willingly.” 

            That touched Arum in a deep, self-hateful place.  The truth was that for a long time, he _had_ served Vok willingly.  He’d sincerely believed the old man loved him, and that the right thing to do was to respond with total obedience.  It was only as he’d gotten older—and as Vok’s treatment of him had gotten worse—that he had begun to glimpse the reality that he was being used. 

            The pain of having his own secret self-loathing thrown in his face, publicly, no less, was too much.  Real rage descended upon Arum, and for the first time in his life, he literally saw red in the corners of his vision.  The boy swore at his taunter, and then punched him hard in the jaw.

            The other boy went down.  Despite the haze of rage in his head, Arum was shocked when he saw the red-headed boy hit the ground.  He couldn’t have struck him that hard . . . could he?  For a moment, everybody just stood there staring.  Then the boy on the ground groaned, and put his hand up to the spot that Arum had hit.

            Somebody called out, “Kelas!  Are you all right?”

            “No.  Do I look all right?” Kelas asked, his voice somewhat muffled by his hand. 

            Dannica’s chill green gaze shifted from Kelas to Arum, and she said evenly, “I’ll see that you get expelled for that.” 

            A short, dark-haired boy suddenly shouted out, “I’m going to tell the Archmage!” and then he bolted.

            It occurred to Arum at that moment just how much trouble he was likely to be in. 

            Rather than stay around to get taunted into doing something even worse, Arum turned and strode from the group, telling himself that he was done with them and with Galeddin forever.  If these were the sorts of peers he had to deal with, then he wanted nothing more to do with the Society of Wizards.

            By the time he was nearly off the grounds of Galeddin’s equivalent of an educational campus, he was shaking, and his hand was aching.  He wondered if he’d broken it.  He walked past the street where Eldris’ house stood, heading outward toward . . . where?

            He knew that if he went home, Eldris would be very disapproving of him.  A whipping was a foregone conclusion.  Frankly, Arum thought he probably deserved a whipping.  But Dannica and Kelas deserved one too.  Hadn’t those people sworn in front of the Council to deal with others with compassion?  In their own way, they’d been as irresponsible and disobedient as Arum had. 

            Within an hour, he’d made it to the city’s northern gate, and he stood there in its shadow, wondering what to do.  Most of the outbound wagons were empty or nearly so, and he briefly thought about hitching a ride with one of them.  He could offer to work for whichever carter agreed to pick him up, and maybe he could get food and a bed for the night.  After that . . . who knew. 

            Someone with the ability to work magic could always compel others to do what he wanted, and Vok had taught him a lot about that.  But Arum had no desire to force his will upon some innocent wagon-driver.  Besides, even though he’d just about made up his mind to leave Galeddin and the Society of Wizards, he hadn’t forgotten his vows to use his powers with wisdom. 

            Just as he was taking a deep breath and striking out beyond the gates, a familiar voice called his name.  Arum turned around, and saw with a relief that surprised him that Eldris was hurrying through the crowd.  “Master!” he exclaimed. 

            Eldris walked up to him, took him by the arm, and guided him out of the throng of traffic.  Once they were under the shelter of a building overhang just inside the gates, the Archmage embraced him.  “I’m so glad I caught you,” he said. 

            Puzzled, Arum asked, “How did you find me?”

            “I used a mirror,” said Eldris, stepping back and looking at Arum with a concerned expression.  Arum felt terribly stupid.  There were ways to prevent being seen by another wizard in a seeing mirror, but he had been too upset to think about it.  “One of the boys who saw what happened came to me, and when I saw you heading out into the city, I feared you were about to leave us,” Eldris said.

            Something about the way that he said “leave us” made Arum think the Archmage would have been terribly sad if he had chosen to run away.  It hadn’t occurred to him that his actions might affect others in that fashion. 

            “Well . . . I think most of the wizards don’t want me here, sir,” Arum said. 

            “Perhaps some of them don’t, but that doesn’t mean that they should have what they want,” Eldris said.  “Come.  Talk to me.  If you still want to leave afterward, I can’t stop you.  You’re hardly a prisoner here, but I at least want to understand what happened.” 

            As they slowly walked back to the yellow house, Arum told Eldris about how Dannica and Kelas had taunted him.  “They’re not allowed to do that, are they?” the boy asked. 

            “No, they’re not,” said Eldris.  “And I think their masters ought to know how they were treating you.”

            Arum made an unhappy noise and said, “Mistress Reinne won’t care.  She doesn’t like me anyway.  It’s probably fine with her that Dannica talks to me the way she does.” 

            “I wouldn’t assume that,” said Eldris.  “In any case, it’s not fine with me that Dannica was unkind to you.  You’re a brother wizard to her, whether she likes it or not, and you deserve some respect.” 

            Arum nodded, but felt unconvinced.  As they reached the door of Eldris’ house, the boy asked, “Is Ban home?”

            Eldris looked surprised and said, “He’s in class now.  Or at least he’d better be,” he added darkly. 

            “Good,” Arum said.  When Eldris gave him a questioning look, Arum said, “I just . . . wanted to talk to you about something.  Without anybody listening.” 

            “Of course,” said the Archmage, and led the way inside.  Eldris then walked up the steps from the downstairs sitting room, past the floor where the bedrooms were, and up to the floor that contained his study.  He’d shown it to Arum when the boy first moved in, but Arum had never had a chance to really look at it before. 

            Its walls were covered in bookshelves, and there were magical implements and curiosities set on the shelves at intervals.  There was an ostrich egg, and a stuffed bird with an amazing yellow tail, of a sort Arum had never seen before.  There was also a set of nested silver bowls, the outermost of which had runes carved on it in delicate tracery.  Arum recognized enough of the runes to realize that the bowls were meant to be used in healing.  Many of the objects were similar to the ones that Vok had kept in his own study, only some of the more disturbing elements were absent.  Eldris didn’t have Vok’s collection of ritual knives, for example, or his rows of human embryos preserved in honey. 

            In the center of the room was a carved wooden table, with dark oak spirals for legs.  A number of cushioned wooden chairs stood around it, and Arum realized that this must be a subsidiary place for the Council to meet.  Eldris gestured to one of the chairs, and Arum sat down.  Eldris himself sat in a heavy chair with leather-covered cushions attached to the back and seat with tacks.  “What is it?” he asked.

            Arum looked down at his hands, and fidgeted a bit.  This was going to be hard to admit to, for all that Eldris probably suspected it.  At last the boy looked up and managed to meet Eldris’ gaze.  “Sir . . . when Kelas said that maybe I’d served Vok voluntarily, even though he hurt me, he was right.  I did, for a long time.”  He shook his head.  “But when he said that out loud, it made me so angry that I just . . .” Illustratively, he smacked his fist into his palm—and then immediately wished he hadn’t.  The knuckles of his right hand were swelling, and it looked like they were going to bruise. 

            “You were angry at yourself,” Eldris said. 

            The boy nodded unhappily.  He didn’t like to think of himself as the sort of person who would take out his own self-hatred on other people, but apparently he was.  “I’m sorry, sir,” he said quietly.

            “It says something good about you that you are sorry,” Eldris said.  “Arum, you’re not the first person to turn his negative feelings about himself outward, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.  That doesn’t make it all right, but it does make you human.  And human isn’t such a bad thing to be—especially if you learn from your mistakes.”  He reached out and covered Arum’s sore right hand with his own, and the boy felt a surge of hope that somehow, what he’d done might be forgivable. 

            “There is something I want you to understand, that might make situations like this easier in the future,” Eldris said.  He gently pressed Arum’s hand, and said, “What Issmoroth did to you was not your fault.  You were just a little boy when he came for you, and you hadn’t had a happy home with your parents before that.  He told you he loved you, and you believed him.  How could you not?  At the age of nine, what did you know?  Here was an adult promising to care for you, and you needed care in order to survive.  Of course you believed him.  Of course.  I don’t blame you in the slightest for what happened, and you shouldn’t blame yourself.” 

            Eldris’ gentle words on such a painful subject left Arum with tears in his eyes, although he told himself he wasn’t going to be a baby and shed them.  The boy looked away and tried to find something else to focus on.  He found the gilt-painted binding of a book glistening in the sunlight from the window, and stared hard at that.

            “Arum,” Eldris said, and then he repeated the boy’s name more firmly.  “Don’t shut me out.”

            Reluctantly, Arum looked back at Eldris, and when he saw the sad compassion in the man’s face, his eyes flooded fully.  “Sir . . . I should have . . .” he began, his voice rough with emotion.

            “You should have what?  Contacted me about the evil things Issmoroth was doing?  You did, my son.  You did.  At great cost to yourself,” Eldris pointed out.

            “But I mean, earlier . . .” Arum said, and the pang of his guilt made his tears overflow.  He cried quietly while Eldris held his hand.

            “How much earlier, Arum?” Eldris asked gently.  “When you were ten?  Eleven?  Twelve?  How old did you have to be before you had some hope of surviving what you knew he’d do to you if you came to me?” 

            Unable to answer verbally, Arum shrugged. 

            “Do you think you should have come to the Council as soon as you learned how a seeing mirror worked, no matter that Issmoroth might have killed you?” Eldris pressed.

            Arum nodded. 

            “Oh, young one,” Eldris said softly.  “No child should be forced to give up his life, for any reason.  Not even to do a great good.  Perhaps if you’d been an adult while all this happened, you might have been morally obligated to come to us as soon as you learned what Issmoroth was doing, but you’re not an adult.  You’re a very, very brave boy, and I remain very proud of you.”

            Arum cried for some time.  Finally, he sat back and wiped his eyes on his sleeves.  He thought about apologizing for crying, but he knew that Eldris would only tell him not to be sorry.  Instead he said, “Thank you, sir.”

            “You’re very welcome,” Eldris said.  “I want you to remember what we’ve talked about the next time someone tries to shame you over your time with Issmoroth.  What he did wasn’t your fault, and nothing anybody can say will change that.  I hope that keeps you from getting so hurt and angry at people’s words.” 

            “Yes, sir.”

            Eldris sat back in his chair, and looked at Arum for a moment.  Finally, he said, “Now, we need to discuss whether you’re going to stay in Galeddin.”

            Arum’s gaze dropped to the woven straw matting of the floor, and he nodded.  He knew what was coming if he chose to stay. 

            “I very much want you to remain here.  Not only because I care about you, but because I sincerely believe it will be best for you to grow up with and be educated by the Society of Wizards.  I believe it will be best for others, too.  You have a lot of power, Arum.  You would never have survived Issmoroth’s attack if you didn’t, and you haven’t been taught to use it well.  I believe that the best thing you can do for yourself and others is learn to use your power properly, to heal rather than to harm. 

            If you decide to leave now, I’m sure I can find you some other situation, although I doubt it would suit you as well as learning magic would.  Even still, however, the choice is yours.  You have the right to leave if you wish.”

            Arum thought about it.  If he left, he wouldn’t be whipped, and Dannica and her like wouldn’t harass him again.  But then, if he left, he’d have to leave Eldris, who clearly cared about him, and Ban, who was becoming a friend.  Possibly he could make more friends as time went by. 

            The more he thought about it, though, the more it became a question of what would seem good to him soon, in the coming hours and days, and what might seem good after years and years.  Eldris thought that Arum would be a better person if he stayed with the Society of Wizards and learned to use his magic properly.  But how long would that take?  People were not considered truly grown up until they were twenty-one years old, and that was five years away for Arum.  For that matter, wizards were not considered fully educated until they were quite a bit older than that, if ever.  Vok had told Arum about how wizardry was a lifelong pursuit of knowledge, and in that, the boy suspected he had not lied. 

            When he really thought about it, Arum realized that in his heart, he wanted to stay with Eldris, even if it meant punishment in the short term.  But what would happen over the time to come?

            “If I stay with you, I’m really going to need your help,” the boy said.  He knew he was going to require a lot of support while he won the trust of the other wizards—if such trust ever could be won. 

             “Of course,” Eldris said.  Then after a moment in which he seemed hesitant, he added, “I want you to stay, Arum.  Please.  Stay.”

            Arum released his breath slowly, and looked up from the matting.  He couldn’t help but smile a bit as he looked at his guardian and said, “All right.”

            “Good boy!” Eldris said, clapping him on the shoulder.  “That’s the way to fight.  By refusing to give up, not by using your fists.” 

            “Yes sir,” Arum said.  The warmth inside him was tempered with an unhappy thought, however.  “You’re going to whip me, aren’t you?  For what I did to Kelas,” he asked. 

            Eldris’s smile faded.  He asked, “Do you think you deserve to be whipped?”

            The boy’s gaze fell to his hands, and he massaged his sore knuckles in a gingerly fashion.  “Yes,” he said softly.

            “Unfortunately, I think you’re right,” Eldris said.  “You understand why what you did can’t be allowed.”

            “Yes, sir,” Arum said.  “Will you at least do it quickly, to get it over with?”

            “I will,” Eldris said.  Then when Arum couldn’t muster the courage to move, he tapped the boy’s shoulder with his hand and said, “Come on.  Let’s get your accounts squared, and then you can move on to what’s next.” 

            With a feeling of dread, Arum got up out of his chair and followed Eldris through the door.  “Are you going to make me yell and embarrass myself?” he asked wretchedly, as they walked down the steps.

            “I’m afraid that some yelling is pretty probable,” Eldris said, with genuine regret.  “But you’re hardly the first young person to be punished in our neighborhood.  And with Ban around, I’m sure you won’t be the last.” 

            Arum remembered the other boy’s slightly-theatrical howling and couldn’t help smiling a little.  When they got to the floor where the bedrooms were, Eldris said, “Go sit on your bed and wait for me.  I’m going to give you a little bit of time to think.” 

            Arum couldn’t help but groan.  “Not too much time, please, sir?  I want this over with,” he said.

            “Not too much.  About a quarter of an hour should do it,” Eldris said.

            Arum groaned again.  A quarter of an hour?!  That seemed like forever.  Vok had never made him wait for punishment.  But then, after Arum had displeased him, he generally tore right into the boy as soon as he was caught. 

            Still, Arum obediently went to the small second bed that Eldris had had put in his room, and sat on it.  He couldn’t help but be aware of his bottom, and how much it didn’t currently hurt.

            “I want you to think about what you did, and about what you’re going to do differently in the future,” Eldris said.

            “Yes, sir,” Arum said wretchedly.  Then Eldris closed the bedroom door and descended the steps, and Arum was alone with his thoughts. 

            His first thought was that it was terribly unfair that he was going to be punished when Dannica and Kelas presumably weren’t.  But then his more rational mind caught up with him, and he reminded himself that he had no proof that his bullies weren’t going to be disciplined as well.  He supposed that if he was going to stay with the Society of Wizards, he had better start trying to trust them. 

            As he sat and waited, he struggled to sort out what he would do if people like Dannica and Kelas picked on him again about his history with Vok.  He wasn’t sure.  He didn’t want to continue getting in fights, and he certainly didn’t want to be continually punished, but he just wasn’t sure he could promise not to strike out at someone who was cruel to him in quite that way. 

            Eventually, he ran out of contrite thoughts to think, and began sketching on the top blanket of his bed with his finger.  Among the real and imaginary things he drew was Mistress Reinne thrashing Dannica, because he felt the girl really deserved it. 

            Then he heard Eldris’ footsteps on the stairs, and froze.  He heard the Archmage go into Ban’s room, presumably for the arb switch, and then the door to his and Arum’s room opened.  Arum had been expecting that, but the creaking still made him jump. 

            Eldris entered then, every bit the stern disciplinarian, except for the regret Arum could glimpse in his eyes.  His voice was very firm, however, as he said, “Take your breeches down, Arum, and bend over the bolster.” 

            Already a little tearful, Arum obeyed.  He dropped his breeches, pulled the bolster from the head of the bed and settled it along the side in front of him, and hitched up his robe and shirt.  Bare-bottomed, he bent over and lay waiting, wretchedly.  He heard Eldris step up behind him and say, “Do you understand why you’re being punished?”

            “Yes, sir,” the boy said.  “I hit Kelas, sir.”

            “That’s right,” Eldris said.  “You lost your temper and you reacted violently to a situation that could have been resolved differently.  I’m going to make sure you think twice about doing such a thing again.  Now, what are you going to do in the future when you feel about to lose your temper?”  

            Arum found it a little difficult to have a heart-to-heart conversation when he was bare, upended over a bolster, and facing away from the man who was addressing him, but he tried.  “I don’t quite know, sir.  I think  . . . I think I was just going to ask for your help.” 

            He heard Eldris release a breath, and when he spoke his words were gentler.  “You will have all the help you need, my son,” he said.  “If you need to talk about this more later, then we’ll talk about it.  But for now . . . let’s get this over with.”  He sounded almost as desirous of getting the hated whipping finished as Arum was.  He tapped Arum’s bottom with the switch, and the boy instinctively tensed up. 

            That light tap was the only warning Arum got.  Next came a _whoosh, crack!_ that startled him, and made him jump.  Then, a split second later, the pain hit.  He gritted his teeth in an attempt not to embarrass himself by crying out, but after the second stroke, and the third, he could tell it was only a matter of time.  Ban had been right—arb did hurt worse than either willow or birch!

            Eldris lashed him a little lower with each stroke, until the entirety of Arum’s bottom was on fire.  The boy’s toes started to beat an involuntary tattoo on the floorboards as he got whipped again and again.  Then, after the Archmage cracked him across the backs of his thighs a few times, he started again from the top.

            And that’s when Arum’s yelling began.  At first, it was just short, sharp yelps, but as it continued, and welt crossed welt, he started to truly howl.  The knowledge that the whole of the back court had to hear him crying out wasn’t enough of a deterrent to keep him quiet.  He managed to keep some few crumbs of composure while Eldris finished whipping the backs of his thighs a second time, hoping against hope that now the thrashing would be finished.  But then Eldris started at just above the crown of his cheeks again, and Arum opened up and wailed.

            The boy kicked the floor and wrung the bedclothes with his hands, and when Eldris was about midway down his behind, he rolled abruptly to the side, and begged, “Please sir!  I’m sorry!”

            “I won’t have you getting into fights, Arum,” the Archmage said sternly.  “Now lie still and take your punishment like a brave young man, or it will get worse.” 

            Worse?!  Arum struggled to lie flat and take what he had coming,  Miserable as he was, he wanted Eldris to be proud of him once it was over, and wriggling around plainly wasn’t the way to accomplish that.  He cried bitterly while Eldris finished whipping him, but at least after the third pass over Arum’s bottom, the punishment stopped. 

            Arum did exactly what he had heard Ban do when he’d heard the other boy get a severe whipping.  He fell silent after the painful strokes stopped falling, hardly daring to breathe, and then once Eldris said gently, “It’s over, Arum,” he started to cry again, only more quietly, and with more sorrow than desperation. 

            This was a plea for comfort, and Eldris saw that he got it.  He sat down next to the sobbing boy and rubbed his back with his hand, saying, “It’s all right now, young one.  It’s all right.  It’s all over.  I can tell you’ve learned your lesson, and you’re forgiven.” 

            Beforehand, Arum wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but he actually cried harder after Eldris extended his forgiveness.  Vok had said those words to him, but the boy had always been able to tell that he didn’t really mean them.  Vok kept a tally of wrongs in his head, and he never erased a mark.  Apparently, the Archmage was cut from different cloth. 

            He soothed Arum until the boy was able to get up and pull his breeches back into place, and then he stroked his hair and held him until the fiercest of the crying stopped.  “Do you need some chamomile tea?” he asked finally, once Arum was managing several seconds of quiet between sobs. 

            The boy nodded.  “I thought so.  I’ll ask Gwym to make you some,” Eldris said, and he kissed Arum’s temple.  Arum lay down on his bed while Eldris went downstairs.  The boy hugged the bolster tight, because he still needed something to hold.  His bottom throbbed, and he was sad that he’d done something that had displeased the man who took care of him.   Eventually, he fell into a light doze.

            When Eldris eventually came back with the tea, Arum stirred.  “Here,” the Archmage said, and handed him a steaming mug that smelled of honey and wine as well as chamomile.  Arum sat up, and winced.  Last time Eldris had whipped him, the worst of the soreness had been gone within a couple of hours, as he’d promised.  This time, he had a feeling he’d be tender sitting down for a couple of days.  So he curled up against the headboard, resting his weight on his hip rather than on his bottom, and sipped at the hot drink. 

            “Thank you, sir,” he said. 

            “You’re quite welcome,” Eldris said.  “I’m proud of you for making it through that punishment.  It couldn’t have been easy, only moving once.”

            “No, sir.  It wasn’t,” Arum said quietly. 

            Eldris sat down next to him.  “Brave boy,” he said.  “No one can say you’re not courageous.  Contacting me with the information of what Issmoroth was doing was a heroic thing to do.” 

            Arum ducked his head.  “I’m not any kind of hero,” he said. 

            “No?” Eldris asked.  “You helped rescue the people of Mormoros when no one else could.  I’ll see that Mistress Reinne reminds Dannica of that.” 

            Arum liked the idea of Reinne sternly reminding Dannica of anything, and so he smiled just a bit and said, “Yes, sir.” 

            Eldris then directed the conversation to milder waters, asking Arum how the rest of his day had been, and what he had been drawing.  The boy was finally able to calm down then, and before long the tea left him sleepy. 

            Eldris stayed with him until he dropped off and napped. 


	8. Chapter 8

            Although Arum’s whipping was over, the consequences of his getting into a fight weren’t quite finished.  Eldris talked to the masters of Kelas and Dannica, and they decided that the young people needed to apologize to each other.  So Arum and Eldris left early the next morning and came to the green at the center of the cluster of Galeddin’s educational buildings.  Mistress Reinne and Dannica, as well as Kelas, with his master, Ranmor, showed up slightly later. 

            Trying to be the mature young man Eldris wanted him to be, Arum walked up to Dannica first.  This would be the hardest apology.  “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he admitted.  “I should have just minded my own business.  I’m sorry.”

            He could have been wrong, but it looked to him as if Dannica was a little red and puffy around the eyes, and he wondered if she’d been crying.  Maybe Mistress Reinne had whipped her after all?  The girl’s expression stayed cool, however.  The only betrayal of her emotions was a slight, angry-looking flare of her nostrils as she took a breath to speak.  “And I was uncivil to you.  It’s nothing to me what your life with Issmoroth was like.  I should not have spoken.”  Fair words, but Arum wondered how sincerely she’d meant them.

            Then, with real shame, he went up to Kelas.  The other boy’s face was purple and swollen on the left-hand side.  Kelas had meant to be cruel when he’d spoken to Arum, but he could have had no idea how much his words would hurt.  He might not have meant what he’d said very much—it was entirely possible he’d just been trying to impress Dannica, who was, after all, a very pretty girl. 

            “I’m really sorry I hit you,” Arum said. 

            Kelas looked surprised at the sincerity of the apology, and then for an instant seemed ready to speak.  Then he glanced over at Dannica, who did not look at him.  Whatever words the boy might have said died on his lips.

 _He loves her_ , Arum realized, with sudden compassion.  He himself had never been in love, but he knew what it was like to love someone who didn’t love him back.  That was one lesson that Vok had taught heartbreakingly well. 

            “It’s all right, I guess,” Kelas said, plainly torn between doing what his master expected of him, and what Dannica might want.  “I’m . . . I’m sorry I was uncivil.  It was wrong of me.”

            He sounded reasonably genuine, and Arum found himself feeling forgiveness toward him.  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, and gave the other boy a rueful smile.  He didn’t bother asking if they could be friends, since he thought he knew what the answer to that would be.  Even still, he resolved not to hate Kelas just because of who he had fallen in love with. 

            Once they’d all apologized, Mistress Reinne said, “Well, I certainly hope that will be the end of that.” 

            Arum walked back over to his master, who patted him on the shoulder, and said, “Well done.  I consider the matter closed.  Now—off you go to your classes.” 

            Arum flashed him a smile of gratitude for the praise, and headed off to his first class of the day, which was an ethics class with the youngest of the young.  The boys and girls in his first class tried his patience terribly.  How could they be so immature?  Was it possible that he himself had been like that a mere four years ago?  They giggled, they whispered, they threw paper.  The ethics Master had to send them into corners in droves, and kept five of them after class for discipline.  Arum didn’t enjoy the thought of the children being whacked, but he hoped they learned from it, and stopped being so annoying. 

            After that, he had an alchemy class with young adults.  That had been a particular interest of Vok’s, and so Arum knew a lot about it.  It was terribly fast, however, and he struggled to keep up. 

            Finally he was back in his healing class, in the auditorium where Dannica had first looked at him and called him “ _that_ boy.” 

            The young people still mostly would not sit near him.  In fact, he was pretty sure the problem was worse than it had been the day before.  Apparently, word of his fight with Kelas had gotten around.  Feeling dejected, and not a little sore after already having spent hours sitting on uncushioned wooden benches, he arranged his paper and little inkwell to take notes. 

            Just before class started, however, a fair-haired young girl—almost as tow-headed as Ban—slipped into the seat next to him.  When she turned to him and smiled, he saw that she had one of the worst cases of smallpox scarring he had ever seen.  The pocks were concentrated in a crescent-moon shape around her left eye and then again in two great clusters on either side of her mouth.  Arum guessed that she, like him, was from an outlying village in an area that mistrusted wizards, since in the cities there were healers who would help a smallpox-ridden child, free of charge, if the family could not pay. 

            “Hello,” Arum said.

            “Hello.  I’m Bierix,” the girl said with a smile. 

            “I’m--” he began, but she cut him off.

            “I know who you are.”  Then she shielded her mouth to the side, as if worried that others might read her lips.  “I hear Dannica hates you,” she said softly.  She sounded as if this was the greatest recommendation of character she could think of. 

            “She does,” Arum said, not quite knowing how to respond. 

            “She hates me too.  She would have hated me anyway, because I’m not interested in worshipping her, but she also makes fun of my face, which I obviously can’t help.”

            “That’s cruel,” Arum said.  And it sounded just like what he knew of Dannica.

            Bierix nodded, and then added, “I hear she hates you because of things you can’t help, too.”

            Arum thought about that.  Had he been able to help being Vok’s student?  It was hard to say.  What would Vok have done if he’d openly threatened to run away?  Probably, he reflected, nothing good.  “I guess she does,” he said at last.  Eldris’ words about how Vok’s actions had not been his fault replayed in his mind. 

            “Well,” said the girl, still behind her hand, “I just thought you might like to know that Dannica got whipped yesterday.  Not because of what she did to you, although she should have been, but because when Mistress Reinne told her she had to apologize, she said ‘No.’  Can you _imagine_?” 

            Frankly, Arum couldn’t.  Mistress Reinne was damned intimidating.  Dannica must be one brave girl—or a very silly one.  “Where did you hear this?” he asked Bierix.

            “I study with Mistress Rothona, and we live in the stone part of the Healers’ House too,” the girl said.  “All the sounds echo.  That, and I know the maidservant Thina, and she was cleaning the chamber next door when it happened.  It must’ve been bad—Dannica eventually cried.”

            Arum was surprised.  He wouldn’t have thought that emerald-eyed beauty capable of crying over anything. 

            “I got caught and spanked for eavesdropping, of course, but it might have been worth it,” Bierix continued. 

            “You’re not sure?” Arum asked. 

            “It was a pretty bad spanking, but not as bad as a real whipping,” Bierix said.  “Not like Dannica got.” 

            Arum nodded.  He would have preferred it if Dannica’s punishment had been something to do with what she’d said to him.  But if she’d refused to apologize, then she deserved the whipping she’d gotten. 

            Curious, he asked, “Do you know this much about everybody?”

            “Yep,” Bierix said brightly, lowering her hand.  “People are fascinating, don’t you think?”

            Then the healing master came out into the center of the auditorium, and they had to fall silent.  Throughout the next hour and a half, there was nothing to do but take notes—rather quickly, since the master was a fast speaker—but Arum couldn’t help wonder about the girl at his side, and what else she knew. 

            He thought about asking her what she knew about him, but then he figured the answer was likely to be “everything.”  He knew people had been talking about him since before he arrived in Galeddin.  Instead, as the class began to pick up to leave, he asked her, “What do you know about Master Eldris?”

            “Oh,” she asked, as if she hadn’t expected that question.  “Well . . . I know he’s a good man.  A good leader.  He stayed in front of the other wizards at Issmoroth’s fortress, in order to help protect them.  And I know he saved your life.”  Her bright blue eyes looked curious, as if wondering why he’d asked. 

            What Arum really wanted to ask her was about whether Eldris had ever loved someone who hadn’t loved him back, the way Arum had with Vok.  He had asked that question on his first day in the yellow house, and Eldris almost seemed about to reply, when Ban had interrupted.  The boy couldn’t think of a way to ask, however.

            “Never mind,” he said at last. 

            “What were you going to ask me?” she asked.

            “Nothing,” he said, and got up to leave. 

            Bierix got up too.  “No, really.  I want to know,” she asked, and poked him lightly in the shoulder.

            He wondered if this was one way she found out things she wasn’t supposed to.  “It’s just . . . more than anybody else, Master Eldis has wanted to give me a second chance.  I just sort of wondered why.” 

            “Oh!” Bierix answered, as if it were obvious.  “He almost got expelled when he was our age.  He turned out all right, so he probably assumes you will too.” 

            “He _what?_ ” Arum asked.  He didn’t know what to think.  Eldris had seemed near-perfect to him, and he had no idea what he could have done that was expulsion-worthy, even as a boy. 

            “You didn’t know that?  I thought everybody knew that,” Bierix said. 

            “Well, I’m obviously not ‘everybody,’” Arum said. 

            “I actually don’t know all that much about it,” the girl said, “but I’ll tell you what I know if you’ll walk toward the North Gate with me.  They’re having a smallpox outbreak in Terr’s Slough—which is just outside the city walls-- and my mistress wants me there after classes so I can help.  I’m useful when there are outbreaks of that, because I can’t get it again.” 

            “Sure,” Arum said, and he began to walk with her.  He was aware that he got some sharp and startled looks from Dannica’s group as he exited the building with the scarred girl, but he hardly cared. 

            As they crossed the green in the middle of the educational buildings, Bierix pointed to a large oak tree in one corner.  There were young people gathering there.  “That’s where my friends and I meet between and after classes,” she said.  “You should come and talk to us sometime.  Nobody’s nasty like Dannica.”  A boy by the tree waved, and Bierix waved back. 

            “I think I’d like that,” Arum said.  So far, other than Eldris, Bierix was the most friendly person he’d met in Galeddin, even if she was incurably nosey. 

            “So tell me the story about Master Eldris,” Arum prompted.

            “Oh!  Yes,” she said, as if getting her mind back on track.  “Well, what I was told was that he drew up a forbidden spell for somebody.  I heard it was a blood elemental spell, but I don’t really believe that.  Master Eldris would never do such a thing.”

            Arum shuddered inwardly at the mention of blood elementals.  He knew them all too well from his time with Vok.  They were called up with a written spell and small amount of the caster’s blood, and they turned into a screaming whirlwind of destruction.  Blood sought blood, and the resultant half-living creature tore into the first person it found and drew out his life fluid to join its own.  He couldn’t imagine Eldris ever doing such a wicked thing either. 

            “Anyway,” Bierix continued lightly, “whatever happened, somebody supposedly died.  Master Eldris got hauled up in front of the Council, and they almost threw him out.  But luckily, they didn’t.  We would have been in bad shape with Issmoroth if they had!” 

            “Who told you this?” Arum asked, still not quite able to believe. 

            “I don’t remember,” Bierix said.  “Different people.  Really, everybody knows this.” 

            The boy was a bit stricken.  “Well . . . how did he make it right, then?” Arum asked.  The Eldris he knew would have insisted on some kind of atonement and restitution. 

            “I don’t really know.  I just know that eventually, people forgave him for it,” Bierix said.

            Well, what good was a girl who supposedly knew everything if she didn’t actually know everything?  He found he wasn’t all that sure he was happy he’d asked the question about Eldris, for all that he couldn’t help but like Bierix. 

            Arum turned off the road to the North Gate when they came near the yellow house, and he bid Bierix goodbye.  “See you!” she said.  “Maybe tomorrow I won’t be so busy, and I can at least introduce you to everybody at our tree.” 

            After that, Arum walked back to his home, lost in thought.  When he entered the house, Ban was sitting at the table, apparently trying to study from too many books at once.  Arum was slowly getting used to this, which had been Ban’s behavior ever since he’d gotten whipped for not studying.  Not for the first time, Arum pointed out: “It would probably work better if you just took one book at a time.”

            Ban made a dismissive noise.  “I don’t have time for that,” he said. 

            Arum shook his head.  He emptied his pockets of his notes, and then sat down across from Ban.  He really wanted to ask if the other boy knew about Eldris almost getting expelled when he was young, but something prompted him to stay quiet.  If Ban didn’t know, he might ask typically tactless questions when the Archmage returned.  Arum decided that the thing to do was to ask Eldris about it in private. 

            As the afternoon wore on and the boys worked through their books, it occurred to Arum that Vok had inadvertently done him a favor by beating decent study habits into him.  Ban was hopelessly scattered; as soon as he’d almost grasped something in one book, he was off hunting for something entirely different in another one, and it seemed to slow him down enormously.  The other boy wasn’t interested in Arum’s advice, however, so Arum left him alone. 

            When Eldris came home, he saw what Ban was doing and sat down next to him, giving him essentially the same pointers that Arum had.  This time, however, the tow-headed boy seemed to listen.  Arum reflected on how patient Eldris was.  He didn’t scold Ban when the boy got muddled up and got a set of study answers backwards, even after Eldris had already explained the correct answers to him once.  Vok used to whip Arum when he did things like that. 

            Arum was again amazed that Eldris hadn’t always been nearly perfect.  If what Bierix had said was true, that is.  After dinner, Arum went up to Eldris, who was sitting in his wing chair before the fireplace.  Eldris had called up a cone of witchlight so that he could read, and the boy thought about forgetting the whole idea of talking to him about his past.  He didn’t want to bother his master when he was trying to relax. 

            Eventually, curiosity and a certain concern got the better of him.  Eldris always wanted to hear his side of the story when someone accused him of doing something wrong.  Wasn’t it right that he give Eldris the same consideration?  “Sir?” the boy asked, standing beside the Archmage’s chair. 

            Eldis looked up at him inquiringly.  “What is it, Arum?”

            “Can I talk to you alone for a little bit?”

            Ban was sitting at the table, playing a game where he matched slips of painted ivory picked up out of a pile, and he looked up and asked, “Are you in trouble again?”

            “Shut up, Ban,” Arum said, exasperated. 

            “Arum,” Eldris said reprovingly.  “And Ban, do try to mind your own business.”  Speaking to Arum again, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

            “No . . . I just . . . heard something I wanted to ask you about,” Arum said. 

            Eldris appeared curious, and then he said, “All right,” and closed his book.  “We can go upstairs to my study.” 

            As they went up the stairs Arum tried to rehearse what he was going to ask.  He didn’t want to seem disrespectful, or overly nosey.  But he hadn’t come up with what he felt were the right words by the time they were settling into their chairs in Eldris’ study.  After a day of sitting on unpadded wooden benches, the cushioned chair felt good, but the boy still fidgeted a bit, trying to find the most comfortable way to sit.

            “How’s your bottom?” Eldris asked.

            “Still a bit sore, sir,” Arum admitted.

            The Archmage nodded.  “I think it will be for a day or two more.  But that’s a lesson well learned, and I’m sure you won’t have to be punished for fighting again.”

            “No, sir,” Arum assured him.  Then there was an awkward lull, while Arum rubbed his fingers over a dent in the table and tried to come up with an appropriate question.  Finally, he asked, “Can I ask you something a bit personal, sir?”

            Eldris looked surprised, but he said, “Yes, I suppose so.  Although if it’s too personal I reserve the right not to answer.” 

            Arum nodded.  After another uncomfortable moment, he decided to roll the dice and said, “Today, someone told me that you were almost expelled when you were my age.”

            “Ah,” Eldris said.  He seemed regretful, but not surprised.  “And did that bother you?”

            “It—well, I don’t know,” Arum said.  “It startled me.” 

            “Because you think I could never make a serious mistake, even as a boy?” Eldris asked, his expression was affectionate. 

            “Well . . . maybe.  I just . . . I guess I just thought that they wouldn’t let you become Archmage, if you’d done something like that.”  Worried he might have been offensive, he scanned Eldris’ face, but all he saw there was a kind of sad fondness. 

            “I was sixteen,” he said.  “Old enough to experience consequences for my actions, yes, but not old enough for what I did to brand me for life.  Why, is that the way you feel about yourself?  Do you think the things you’ve done should define you forever? 

            Arum hadn’t expected his questioning to be turned back on himself, and he looked down at the dent on the table again.  “I don’t know,” he said softly.  “Maybe.” 

            “I see.  Well, then I’ll tell you what I did, and you can decide whether I deserved exile for it or not,” Eldris said.  “When I was your age, I fell in love with a young woman.  And she _was_ a young woman—older than me and the girls I usually flirted with.  My master did not approve.  Her name was Rosandra.”

            Arum tried settling himself in his seat again, working to get more comfortable.  He thought this promised to be very interesting. 

            “Rosandra and I had a lot of fun together.  She was bright, and funny, and very clever, and while I was forbidden to see her, and was often punished for disobedience when I got caught, she saw to it that we never went anywhere or did anything that would call down additional discipline on me.  I thought my master was being terribly unreasonable in not allowing me to see her, and so did several others—even some adults. 

            “Well, one day she came to me in tears.  Someone had been trying to break into her house the night before, and only her father’s shouting had scared him off.  She was of the opinion that the intruder was a man she’d once had a relationship with.  He was a butcher, and he had a temper, and she talked about how frightened she was of him and his knives.  As you can imagine—no, perhaps you can’t.”  Eldris stopped for a moment, and then asked gently, “Have you ever been in love, Arum?”

            The boy shook his head.  “Ah,” Eldris said.  “Then I should explain.  I wanted to protect Rosandra.  And I was instinctively desirous of taking her side in all things, so I was predisposed to think hostile thoughts about anyone she didn’t like.”

            Arum nodded.  He’d had people he’d cared for in the past, and what Eldris had described of being in love was comprehensible.

            “Anyway, she and I stopped having much fun together,” Eldris continued.  “Her thoughts were always on this butcher—his name was Swyvor—and what he was likely to do to her.  Eventually, she came to me with the suspicion that Swyvor had managed to hire a rogue wizard who had provided some talisman that allowed him to pass into her house unseen.  Now, even at the time, I found this odd, since if such a rogue wizard existed, why hadn’t his talisman already let him kill Rosandra and her family?  But I was too smitten to think clearly, and I listened to what she said next.  She wanted a killing spell.  A blood elemental, specifically.”

            Arum gasped, and Eldris nodded gravely.  “You know what they do.  Of course, I refused her at first.  I didn’t even know how to call up such a thing.  Any master or mistress who would have shown me would have been imprisoned or exiled for the act.  But she persisted.

            “Eventually, convinced that my lady-love’s life was at stake, I went to the Library and snuck into a room where I was not permitted.  The ward and guard spells have been redoubled there, since, by the way,” he added.  “I found the right book, and I’m sorry to say I drew a spell card for her.”  Eldris gave a long sigh and shook his head.  Arum knew what the spall card would have done.  It would have allowed Rosandra to call up an elemental spirit when she applied sacrificial blood to the card. 

            “What happened?” Arum asked, although he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know. 

            Eldirs gave him a sad but clear-eyed gaze as he said, “Either something was wrong with the way I drew the card, or she didn’t follow my instructions about what to do with it, because the blood elemental turned on her.”

            Arum’s gray eyes went wide.  He knew what death via a blood elemental meant, and he was horrified at the thought. 

            “The Council masters had to run out in the middle of the night to take down the elemental spell—not in Rosandra’s house, but in Swyvor’s.  He and his new fiancée were lucky to escape.  You see, Rosandra had never been interested in me to begin with.  She’d been given over by a man for another woman, and she swore to find the most powerful, most foolish wizard boy she could and to use him to get revenge.” 

            Shocked, Arum said back in his chair.  “What . . . what happened?” he asked.

            “Well, I spent three nights locked in the belltower on the campus green, for one thing,” Eldris said.  The cells there are fortified against magic, and that’s where our criminals go.  It’s where Issmoroth would have gone, had he lived.”  Arum had seen the green’s gray stone belltower, and heard its music floating on the air.  He’d had no idea it was a prison as well. 

            “I don’t know how many times I was questioned, both by my master and by the Council wizards.  All I could do was try to explain my side of things, and cry, and beg for mercy,” Eldris said. 

            Arum found himself aching for the young boy Eldris had been.  Both because that boy had been so sad, and because he understood how easy it was for a young person to be manipulated by someone who had won his trust.  “What happened then?” he asked.

            “Well, eventually, they decided that the whole thing wasn’t entirely my fault.  They put me on six months’ probation, and turned me over to my master for discipline.  Which I got.  In spades.  I was severely whipped every Friday for two months over that,” Eldris said.  “Arguably, I deserved more, but my master understood that giving me more wouldn’t teach me any better.  And that is what he told me after the whippings finally stopped, and I still felt terrible.  Shame and guilt have their place, but once someone has learned his lesson through them, they become something like shackles, and only prevent a person from becoming what he might otherwise have been.  And that is something I’d like to pass on to you, young one.  We all make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean that we ought not to have second chances.” 

            Arum sat, feeling shocked, so much so that he just sat and stared into the middle distance for a short while, having even forgotten to fidget with the dent in the table and to squirm in his seat.  Then he looked up into Eldris’ sad dark eyes and asked, “So you do understand what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t love you back, don’t you?”

            The Archmage nodded gravely.  “I understand only too well,” he said. 

            Then Arum abruptly got up, and embraced his master.  At first Eldris seemed surprised about the role reversal of having his student comfort him, but after a moment he hugged Arum back fully. 

            “Thank you, my son,” he said softly, and patted Arum firmly between the shoulder blades. 

            “You’re welcome, sir,” Arum said.  After he leaned back he added, “And I promise to think about what you said.  About second chances.” 

            “Good boy,” Eldris said, patting him on the shoulder.  After he looked at Arum fondly for a moment, he said, “Come on.  Let’s get back downstairs.”

            The boy followed him, and they got back to the rest of their night. 


	9. Chapter 9

            A few days after his private conversation with Eldris, Arum began to feel ill.  He made it through two of his morning classes despite a worsening headache, and then contacted Eldris through his seeing mirror to ask if he could go home. 

            At first the boy wasn’t sure his master would answer, since he was meeting with the Council that morning.  But Eldris’ image soon appeared in the little palm-sized silver mirror that Arum carried.  The Archmage looked concerned.  “What is it, my son?” he asked.  Arum had never contacted him in the middle of a Council meeting before. 

            “Sir, I don’t feel well.  I was wondering if I could go home and go to bed,” Arum said.

            “Of course,” Eldris said, “What’s wrong?”

            Arum described his head and body aches, and his growing conviction that he was running a fever.  The world looked over-bright and flattish, and in his experience that meant that his temperature was high. 

            Eldris gave a worried frown and said, “Yes, absolutely, go home and get to bed.  I’ll be home to see to you as soon as I can.” 

            The walk home seemed unpleasantly long, and Arum found himself worrying about exactly what he might have.  Smallpox cases had begun to appear inside the city, and Bierix hadn’t been in class since the day she’d spoken to him.  He assumed she was helping the healers with the outbreak.  Arum had never had smallpox, but he’d heard it could be terrible, even if a person had wizards to look after him. 

            He said hello to Kellen on his way through the door, and then headed upstairs to bed.  He undressed and put on his nightshirt, and then crawled beneath the covers with a groan.  Everything hurt. 

            He was dozing when he finally heard the front door close downstairs, and he recognized Eldris’ tread on the stairs.  The Archmage entered the room and sat down on the edge of Arum’s bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

            “Not so good, sir,” Arum said.  His throat had started to hurt on top of everything else. 

            Eldris pressed his hand to Arum’s forehead, and then his cheek, and said, “You have a fever, young one.  Open your mouth and let me see your throat.”  The boy obeyed while Edris called a tiny seed of witchlight over Arum’s mouth.  The light had no heat to it, but Arum shut his eyes against the brightness.  It made his eyes ache. 

            Eldris made an unhappy noise, and the witchlight died.  “You poor boy,” he said.  “I’ll have to get one of the healers in here to know for sure, but yes, it looks like smallpox to me.”

            Arum’s heretofore-sleepy eyes snapped open.  “No, sir!” he plead, as if there were something Eldris could do about the diagnosis.

            “It’s all right, Arum.  It’ll be fine.  We’ve caught it early, and you have wizards all around you.  It won’t be the terrible disease you’ve heard of,” Eldris soothed. 

            Feverish and distressed as he was however, Arum’s eyes filled with tears.  He looked away, hoping Eldris didn’t notice him tearing up like a baby. 

            “There now . . . I promise it won’t be so bad,” Eldris said.  “You’re young and strong, and with our healers’ help, you’re not going to die.” 

            Embarrassed, Arum wiped at his eyes with his fingers and asked, “Will I . . . ?” he touched the places on his face that poor Bierix had been scarred.  He was not a vain boy, but he knew that some of the crueler young people picked on Bierix because of her scarring, and he didn’t need any more reasons for people to pick on him. 

            “Not severely, if at all,” Eldris said, understanding his meaning.  “And not all smallpox scarring is the end of the world.  See this?” he pointed to a slightly indented spot on his forehead, “This is from smallpox.  And so is this,” he added, tapping a small indentation just above his mouth.  “Life has gone on for me.”

            “Yes, sir,” Arum said, although he was still afraid. 

            “We’re going to take good care of you, Arum,” Eldris assured him.  “You’re going to be well again soon.  I’ll get you some tea to take that temperature down.” 

            Arum slept again, fitfully, while Eldris was gone, and only truly woke when the Archmage had a mug of tea ready for him.  Eldris sat on the edge of Arum’s bed and gently shook the boy’s shoulder.  “Here,” he said, “It’s cooled enough to drink.  Willow bark for the fever and honey for taste.” 

            The boy awakened, and allowed his master to help him sit up.  He took the mug in both hands, and tried to drink the liquid greedily, but it was still too hot, and he had to sip. 

            “If you’re that thirsty I’ll get you some cool water,” Eldris said.  Arum nodded, and fell to blowing on the surface of the tea.  It was sweet to begin with, but had a bitter aftertaste.  The boy drank it anyway.  He knew from the long-ago days of living with his parents that bitter willow bark took a fever down. 

            Once the boy had sipped down his tea, Eldris was as good as his word and brought up a second mug full of water.  Arum drank that like a dying man in the desert, and another one as well.  Then the boy lay back down on his bed to go back to sleep. 

            As he slept and wakened throughout the afternoon, he vaguely heard Eldris speaking to someone about Ban.  Apparently the younger boy hadn’t had smallpox either, and it was best to house him away from Arum. 

            A little before sundown, the healers came.  Arum was introduced to them as Mistress Tasina and her student, Lorald.  Tasina was an older woman with short gray hair and a kindly face, and Lorald was a young man maybe five or six years older than Arum, who wore the black-trimmed gray robe of a junior. 

            They had Gwym heat up kettlefuls of water and poured them into a wooden tub.  Then Tasina had Arum strip and sit in the bath, while she checked his skin over for the telltale smallpox rash, and Lorald bathed him.  The rash was present on his arms and legs, but it wasn’t yet terrible.  The boy shivered when he had to get out, and the healers quickly wrapped him in a long linen towel. 

            Once Arum was clean and dry, Tasina had him lie on his bed.  She called for Eldris to come in to help them raise power for the healing ritual.  The little room was quite crowded with all three adults inside, and they had to push Eldris’ bed into the very corner.  “How are you feeling, young one?” Eldris asked, looking down at his student.

            Arum felt ill, and awkward, since he was naked in front of strangers, but he didn’t want to be seen as fussing and complaining.  “I’m all right, sir,” he said. 

            “Hmm, well, you’re to tell me if you’re not,” Eldris said.  “But for now, try to go to sleep.  The healing ritual may take some time.” 

            “Yes, sir,” Arum said, and shut his eyes.  He found it impossible to relax, however, as the healers crossed back and forth in the room, talking softly and making noises with equipment.  Arum looked around him periodically, and saw that Lorald was using chalk to draw what he recognized as a healing circle on the floor around the bed.  Eldris was just finishing setting out tall wax candles in the four cardinal directions, and Tasina had just lifted a small earthenware pot out of a bag at her feet.  Arum knew that the pot must contain a red ochre paste.  He’d been ill occasionally while in Vok’s care as well, and the ancient wizard had performed healing rituals on him, so he knew approximately what would happen. 

            Tasina’s steady hands felt cool against Arum’s feverish skin as she dipped fingerfuls of the ochre paste out of the pot and drew the appropriate energy lines on Arum’s body.  Soon, she began quietly to sing a song in a language Arum didn’t know, although he recognized a word of power here and there.  The song went on and on, and eventually it allowed him to relax enough to sleep. 

            When he awakened, his blankets had been drawn over him, and it was dark.  He was thirsty, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to get up.  Walking over the chalked lines on the floor would break the spell, if the spell field hadn’t been taken down already.  “Master Eldris?” he called out.  When he didn’t get a reply, he called out again, “Master?”

            This time he heard Eldris start walking up the steps, and Arum was much comforted when the Archmage opened the door and the white light of his witchfire came into the room.  “Hello, Arum,” he said, and came to sit on the edge of the boy’s bed.  He put his hand against Arum’s forehead and said, “You feel cooler.  That’s good.” 

            “I’m thirsty, sir,” Arum said.

            Eldris nodded.  “I’ll get you something to drink.  How are you feeling?” 

            “A little better.  My head doesn’t hurt as much.”  The deep throbbing of his headache had turned into a variable level of discomfort behind his eyes. 

            “Good.”  Eldris rand his hand over the boy’s sweat-dampened hair.  Then he got up from the bed and said, “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

            “Am I allowed up?” Arum asked.  “I don’t want to have to lie here and . . . and feel bored.”  In reality, he didn’t want to feel anxious and lonely, but he didn’t want to sound like a baby to Eldris. 

            Eldris looked at him for a short time, and then said, “All right.  But if you start to feel worse, you’re going straight back to bed.” 

            “Yes, sir,” the boy answered.  He got up and put on his nightshirt again, aware that the ochre was going to get on the fabric, but not knowing what else to do about it at the moment.   Then he followed Eldris down to the sitting room.

            The Archmage walked over to the wing chair and tapped the back, indicating where Arum was to sit.  “Are you sure, sir?” Arum asked, hesitant.

            “Arum, it’ just a chair,” Eldris pointed out.  “Ban fusses a bit when someone else sits in it because he feels a bit protective of me, but it’s not at all necessary.  This is where I want you to sit.”

            “Yes, sir,” Arum said, and settled himself into the broad, heavy frame.  There was a small fire lit in the grate, and at the moment Arum didn’t find its warmth uncomfortable.  He stretched his feet out toward it and rested his head against one of the chair’s wings.  The dim light from the fire was enough to make his eyes hurt, but he didn’t want to be sent back upstairs to bed, so he shut his eyes. 

            A few moments later, Eldris returned with an earthenware jug and a mug full of liquid.  When Arum accepted it and began to drink, he found that it was water spiced with ginger, sugar, and just a pinch of salt.  He drank it down and then held his mug out, asking “Sir?” as a request for more. 

            Once his thirst was quenched, he half-sat, half-lay in the chair, while Eldris went to sit in one of the smaller side chairs.  After they sat in silence for a while, Arum asked, “Would you read something to me?” 

            “Of course,” Eldris said.  He got up and went to one of the bookshelves, and brought back a heavy book.  The firelight winked of the gilt lines on its bindings.  “Ban likes this one.  Let’s see if you do, too.”  It turned out to be a story about heroic knights and fair maidens, and good wizards battling evil ones to save the world. 

            Arum enjoyed it, but after only a chapter or so, his head began to hurt badly again, and he said, “I think I’d better go back to bed, Master.” 

            Eldris marked his place in the book with a ribbon and set it aside.  “Let’s get you upstairs, then,” he said.  He led the way back up to the bedroom he shared with Arum, lighting the way with a dimmed witchlight, which hurt the boy’s eyes less.  Eldris tucked Arum back into bed, and sat on the edge of his mattress. 

            “One last story.  A short one,” the Archmage said.  He allowed the witchlight to die, and then the only light in the room was the soft, pale moonlight coming through the window.  “Once, there was a stonemason,” he began.

            _A stonemason . . . ?_ Arum wondered.

            “It was his job to build a great arch underneath a bridge.  Everybody thought he was a good stonemason, which is why he was entrusted with this task.  But there was something missing from his arch.  He didn’t notice it, and nobody else noticed it, because the arch held up the way it was.  But it turned out there was a small gap on one side of the keystone. 

            “Then one day, a young boy climbed down one of the bridge’s piers, and he spotted the gap.  He searched around on the ground until he found the perfect-shaped stone to fit it, and then he climbed back up to place it in the hole. 

            “When the stonemason saw what the boy was doing, he was surprised, until he saw the perfect fit of that stone into his arch.  Then he realized that this was what his arch had been missing all along.  It turned out that he wasn’t such a great stonemason that he couldn’t benefit from the help of a youth, and he was very grateful to the boy.

            “And you know what?” Eldris asked, almost conspiratorially.

            “What?” Arum asked, interested despite himself.

            “That stonemason is me, and the boy is you.  I had no idea that there was a piece missing in my life until you showed up to fill the gap.  And I am truly grateful for you, Arum Errarin.”

            Arum lay still and silent for a moment, startled that a great wizard like Eldris could ever have had a gap in his life.  Then he looked up at Eldris’ face, half-shadowed in the moonlight, and saw only affection there. 

            “Thank you, sir,” Arum said softly.  He struggled to think of how he could explain his own feelings.  Vok had often told the boy how important he was to him, but the dark wizard had never had Eldris’ warmth and sincerity.  At last, Arum said hesitantly, “I . . . I had more than one little gap in my life before I came here.  It was mostly gaps.  Maybe it was all gaps.  But, sir . . . you’re helping me fix what’s wrong.  You help me see where things need to be better.  Thank you for that.  For the first time in my life . . . or at least the first time I can remember very well, I’m happy.”  And he was happy, he reflected.  Damn Dannica and her cruel friends, as well as the graver adult wizards who wondered if Arum were some sort of liability.  He was happy in Galeddin, and he wanted to stay. 

            “I’m so glad to hear it,” Eldris said, and he ran the backs of his fingers down over Arum’s cheek.  For a short time they looked at each other, fond dark eyes looking into hero-worshipful gray ones.  Then Eldris bent and kissed the boy’s forehead.  “Rest, now,” he said.

            Arum shut his eyes, and did. 


End file.
